The overture and the underscore
by Professional scatterbrain
Summary: Their friendship was torn to shreds, now they are more messed up then ever, and missing each other more than they will ever admit. Jeff is violently abusing the leniency he is treated with, while Lita is self destructing in massticketselling style.JeffLit
1. A great plan is all in the details

* * *

Title: The overture and the underscore. 

Written by Professional Scatterbrain.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything.

Email: ask and you shall receive.

Rating: First chapter is R, but everything else is Pg – 13

Contents warning: In the first chapter only there is violence against women, but after that there is nothing of the sort against Lita, and in some of the final chapters there is an analysis and condemnation of the actions committed against her.

Set/Spoilers: 2005 when Matt comes back to Raw.

Summary: Their friendship was torn to shreds, now they are more messed up then ever, and missing each other more than they will ever admit. Jeff is violently abusing the leniency he is treated with, while Lita is self destructing in mass-ticket-selling style.

Pairing: Jeff/Lita

* * *

**Chp 1: A great plan is all in the details **

* * *

Out of all the lovers and whores, he had loved her more, and when he pushed her down, he broke. Duty and loyalty tore him into little pieces that could never be put back together again. Her eyes, her words, her touch. He was a puzzle now, and he'd lost the final pieces as she flinched away from him. It was the first time she had ever flinched at his touch. 

Was this how it was meant to be?

Torn butterfly wings and awkward words?

A dream turned violent?

When Matt had returned to the WWE, like a blaze of fury and flames, he'd held all the cards and with the best hand in the game, he'd managed to deal him brother back in. For the first time in years, Jeff had willingly signed on the dotted line. Like in the old days Matt took care of the details; took care of his brother so that Jeff would take care of Matt. After all money and a cheering crowd can only do so much. A fact Jeff was well aware of.

She had never been his.

Not from the start when he'd been introduced as Matt's 'Loser younger brother,' nor now where he was just another person that held her down. That pushed her down. Another person to leave bruises on her skin. Just another person walking around with her blood under his nails. He wondered if any of the others felt like he did. If they wanted it in the way he wanted it.

He'd wanted to hurt her.

He'd wanted to break her.

But instead, he was the one that slipped off the final edge.

He'd returned to the WWE stage darker now than before. Not all the glitter was gold, and he'd learnt that the hard way. Familiar faces welcomed him back, and new ones played out a stupid game of either seduction or obviousness' which he had no time for. Matt may wholly endorse the search for centrefold constants, but Jeff tired of their cellophane antics. Their made up faces, and façades of supposable knowing smiles pasted on faces of half assed punk rock princesses, and dancing queens did little to amuse him.

Other matters were more pressing.

He and Matt planned the whole thing.

The surprise, the attack, the blindside; everything. Like a game of chess. They had certainly looked before they leapt, and it showed. Edge and _her_, Lita, were in the ring, he was talking, and her eyes were black as she stroked his arm. Blank eyes. Black eyes. Blank eyes. Jeff hated those eyes, and god, how he had longed to race out into the ring to fight them, and the crowd had never cheered so loud for them when he and Matt finally did.

Matt took on Edge.

Jeff was meant to help.

But Lita didn't run away.

She stood there, still and silent.

He was meant to go after Edge, but neither of the other men noticed as he approached her. He wanted to break her. He wanted to shatter her until no one could piece her back together again. It was base instinct, and it was beyond conscious thought. He wasn't meant to act on it. Matt hadn't, not really, nor had anyone else. But he wanted too, wanted more than he wanted to breathe. He wanted to break her so she was shattered and no one could fix her. No one, not even all the king's horses and all the king's men.

And as he pushed her down, he couldn't stop the words from vomiting out of him.

"You ruined everything!" he screamed, "Everything is ruined."

Throwing her down the steps, out of the ring and onto the mat covered concrete ground, he repeated those words, those threats, those pleas, over and over again. As if to burn them into her mind. But, as he tried to break her, he began to shatter. She didn't look away. She didn't say a word. She didn't even try to fight back. She just watched him, never once looking away.

Watched him with those aching eyes of hers.

He ached for those eyes of hers.

She had made him ache for those eyes.

So, he pushed her against the steel ramp with a vicious kick. But then she was limp like a doll, so he jammed her down, grating her skin against the steel. But she didn't say a word. She didn't lift a finger. She hissed in pain, and winched a little when she noticed the blood. But she didn't stop him.

He wanted to weep.

So he did a leg drop on her rib cage, and she cried out a little, and finally closed those eyes of hers. Those eyes that had watched him from the moment he had burst through the curtains, the eyes that had watched him as she sailed out to the ring, the eyes that hadn't looked away as he swore at her, and the eyes he still saw each night in his sleep. He picked her up and he held her close as he dragged her to the edge of the ramp. He remembered one of the last times he had been pushed off. She had fallen on top of him, and he'd been so worried, so terrified that she might have been hurt.

As he remembered, he nestled his head into the crock of her neck and cried.

Words of a drunk ran through his mind.

Bar fights and paddy vans filled with friends and fighters.

This wasn't how it was meant to be, and for a second, he felt her hands reaching up and embracing him. He cried harder, and he felt her body begin to shake. She was weeping too. He hated himself. He hadn't wept since he was a child, and he hadn't clung to anyone like this since he was a child either. But she was soft, and lovely, and he ached for her. He hated her. Because everything had been near perfect, then she had gone and spoiled it all.

"You bitch," he told her brokenly, and then he threw her off the ramp.

Her eyes watched him as she fell.

Honey eyes and crimson lips; tear stained cheeks and bloody hands.

But her eyes closed for good when she landed with a thump.

He turned away then.

He turned away and he didn't look back.

But that didn't mean anything really when he went to bed each night only to dream of her.

* * *

Hope you liked the first chp - once again, I want to stress that this chp will be the only one with violence against women in it like this, and there will be condemnation of Jeff's actions.

* * *


	2. The aftermath

Title: The overture and the underscore.

Written by Professional Scatterbrain.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything.

Distribution: ask and you shall receive.

Rating: First chapter is R, but everything else is Pg – 13

Contents warning: In the first chapter only there is violence against women, but after that there is nothing of the sort against Lita, and in some of the final chapters there is an analysis and condemnation of the actions committed against her.

Set/Spoilers: 2005 when Matt comes back to Raw.

Summary: Their friendship was torn to shreds, now they are more messed up then ever, and missing each other more than they will ever admit. Jeff is violently abusing the leniency he is treated with, while Lita is self destructing in mass-ticket-selling style.

Pairing: Jeff/Lita

* * *

**Chp 2: The aftermath. **

* * *

His girlfriend broke up with him.

Apparently she had liked Lita more than Jeff had initially though. Or rather, she didn't like the new knowledge of Jeff's nature that she had gained from his actions. What an unwanted enlightened. After all if Jeff could do it to Lita, the girl that had once been his best friend then what could he do to his girlfriend? So he was once again single, and once again boxing up belongings that weren't his and labelling them ever so neatly with a felt tipped marker. He wanted to care, but honey eyes still invaded his sleep, and he was drinking far too much.

Lita left WWE a few months later.

He knew it was because of him.

He didn't delude himself into thinking it was Matt or Edge or the fans. Nor did he believe, like Matt did, that this was finally some form of justice being dealt. The universe had never played cards like that, and she had never been broken, not even once by a couple of harsh words spoken by a humiliated ex lover. Or ex lovers'. More than one of them now. She and Edge had ended before they even really got a chance to begin. But Jeff had expected that, after all, mice and men couldn't really make things pure and clean and better.

But he still dreamt of her.

He heard rumours though. She was travelling. 'Finally taking her time to see the world' someone had reported. But he knew she wasn't. Without a home to return too, she was listlessly travelling. He knew because that was what he had done all those years ago when he had left the WWE. He knew too well what could happen in those grey periods. But just because he was losing sleep wanting something he was unable to name didn't mean he was going to follow.

He couldn't follow her.

Couldn't.

The idea of seeing her was too much.

Just like she was too much.

Too dark, too light, too pure, too everything she was not meant to be.

It was only after a supposed call from an old friend did she return. But that was only according to the rumours circulating down the proverbial grape vine. She was different though, sharper; and too much heresy surrounded her. Her few friends, the ones that had always liked her and never stopped liking her, convinced Lita to sign on another dotted line. Thus, without any of the fanfare he received, she joined another wrestling company. The very one he'd left for the WWE. He wondered if the trade was fair, if her worth compensated TNA of their loss of him, or if his worth compensated WWE of their loss of her.

He wondered who'd gotten the better end of the deal.

But he didn't wonder for long.

The answer had always been obvious.

She was fire and fury, and she beat the living hell out of anyone that got into her way.

_'A great number of people got into her way.' _Jeff noted as he loyally tuned in each week.

She never backed down though. Dawn Marie once said that Lita always took on the leaders, the alphas, taking them down one by one just because she didn't care and she didn't want too. Lita was fearless, and just like always, nobody recognise it until it was too late. But Dawn Marie had always known, and that was how she and Lita had become friends. Dawn Marie liked to make her presence felt as well, abet in different ways. They'd always acknowledged their similarities, even now. They had always been good friends like that. Still were friends if all accounts were accurate. They probably were true given the two women's shared past.

And they had shared one hell of a past.

Maybe that's why after a period of time Lita shed the lone wolf identity, teaming up with Raven (who incidentally did not shed his lone wolf image). Together they beat up everyone that crossed them, and in addition to beat each other up more than once. Past and present were messing, becoming fluid and alterable. It appeared that she was tired of playing games, of girl fights and bitch fights, and instead of returning to those matches, she returned to her earlier ones.

Rey might have been proud of her.

If she could climb it, she jumped off it.

If she was in a fight, someone would end up at hospital.

Usually it turned out to be her and the other guy she'd gone after.

Bored and violent, she was fierce, and instead of getting revenge she seemed take it as if it had been hers all along. She was dangerously lovely and intent on bring the world, and everyone around her down. Perhaps that was why she and Raven got on so well. They'd always been on and off acquaintances in the old ECW days; always slightly left of centre. He'd been on the outside, while she'd been constantly looking for the next thrill, detaching herself from ECW before she could get attached to it.

She decided, rather bitterly to outdo everyone.

She was furious and heartbreaking all at the same time.

Maybe that was the trouble.

Maybe that was why she still haunted Jeff's dreams.

Maybe.

Maybe . . .

But he still turned in loyally each week.

Each and every week without fail.

* * *

R&R

* * *


	3. Momentum

Title: The overture and the underscore.

Written by Professional Scatterbrain.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything.

Email: ask and you shall receive.

Rating:Pg – 13

Contents warning: In the first chapter only there is violence against women, but after that there is nothing of the sort against Lita, and in some of the final chapters there is an analysis and condemnation of the actions committed against her.

Set/Spoilers: 2005 when Matt comes back to Raw.

Summary: Their friendship was torn to shreds, now they are more messed up then ever, and missing each other more than they will ever admit. Jeff is violently abusing the leniency he is treated with, while Lita is self destructing in mass-ticket-selling style.

Pairing: Jeff/Lita

* * *

** Chp 3: Momentum **

* * *

It was all about timing.

It was not, as Benoit would say, about patience.

Nor was it, as Triple H would say, about risk management.

It was timing, it was always about timing.

It was never about patience or Trips newest buzz word 'risk management' both of which Lita found useless.

It was timing however, that Lita found to be increasingly useful.

Swinging her feet off the edge of the landing, she was quiet and unobtrusive. Below her wrestler after wrestler entered the arena underneath her feet. She watched them play up to the crowd, and she watched them prance around. Prance and dance. Dancing and prancing. All the same with only slight deviations to the theme. She knew them all. She hummed a little, unable to stop herself from looking down at the steel ramp below her. She'd gotten the idea a while ago, when Randy Orton heckled the Undertaker from above the entrance and against the backdrop of the big screens during his first appearance on SmackDown! after being traded. But she was not here to heckle. No, she had always preferred action rather than talk.

She was _meant_ to wait for Raven to give her the sign.

But she didn't.

He was in a ladder match, and with a twenty meter step ladder leaning against the entrance, she couldn't help herself. Couldn't stop herself. Didn't even want to try to stop herself. Didn't even care to try. She found no reason to care about self control, and she failed to see why she should. The twenty meter ladder beckoned her. It called to her, whispering of ideas and actions, and she couldn't think of a reason not to act upon them. Well, not a good reason. She couldn't tear her eyes off the ladder. Couldn't look away. Perhaps she should have wondered if this was just another version of playing with matches. Her mother had told her not to do that either as a child. But the lesson hadn't seemed to sink in. As a child she always burnt her fingers, and as an adult . . .

She was meant to slide down the ladder like a fireman.

But she didn't.

After all, she never liked listening to her mother as a child so why should she listen to Raven now?

She moved quickly and knowingly. A plan had already taken shape. The ladder was old. Like one of those old rickety ones people would prop against their house in order to paint the upstairs windows. It flexed and shook a little under her weight. She liked the feeling. So suddenly, standing with her hands holding onto the highest rung, she pushed off the side of the entrance of the arena. The pop of the crowd was muted, and she felt strangely gracefully as the ladder curved rapidly towards the mess of bodies fighting.

It was all about momentum.

After reaching 90 degrees, it was all downhill and flipping off the top rungs, she managed to fling her body into a summersault, and then . . . the real fight broke out. She fought with her back pressed against Raven's. Eyes at the back of her head. Eyes at the back of his head. He was taller than her, but it wasn't like that mattered. Even with one scarred up and bashed up knee she was still faster and more agile than most of the other men in the ring.

It showed too.

What a thrill.

What a lark.

She moved to the ropes. She knew what to do and how. Instincts installed by people she once idolised took over. She knew this. She knew how to fight. She'd been doing this for years, but so many people forgot that. She supposed it was easy to be replaced and forgotten when all that was asked out of her was to look pretty and act the part.

Oh, but could she act the part . . . couldn't she?

All pantomimes and marionettes on strings?

She didn't remember, and didn't care that she'd forgotten. Raven was shouting at her. Dark, dark eyes. Eyes of the night. Eyes of the shadows. He was yelling at her. Motioning. Trying to get her attention. He had it. Had it in the palm of his hand. She knew what he wanted. He wasn't good and pure either. He was a modern day Harry Lime, and he was smirking at her as he told her what to do and how. She didn't care about his orders, but she obeyed anyway.

Moonsault.

It wasn't perfect, but it wasn't like she gave a damn about that. She was light-headed as she pulled herself up off the fallen wrestler she'd taken down, but she didn't give a fuck. Raven was tired of pretending to care too. He'd never wanted people to cheer his name, and when he spat in Monty Brown's face he smirked as people hissed. He was unselfconsciously basking the in the chaos he'd masterminded and Lita let him. Raven then winked at her, and pulled Abyss, another of the fallen wrestlers into position.

Poetry in motion.

Stealing 'their' move.

The crowd really reacted then.

So she jumped out of the ring. She knew how to make highlight reel moments. She had it down to an art. A fine art worthy of Andy Warhol. Another five second shot of menace to add to the TNA rebound segment. . . she didn't know if it was called that though. Raw Rebound. She'd been on quite a couple of them. She always knew how to make use of the spotlight when it was occasionally focused on her. She had also read her contract closely and there was nothing anyone could do to stop her.

Three other wrestlers were closing in on her she noticed with a sense of idle detachment.

Rhino was leading the charge.

She never liked him.

For some reason she thought he didn't like her either.

She got cut open when he gored her. Things got a touch dizzy after that. More than a touch. Raven was swearing. But he didn't fuss. Didn't fawn over her either. He let her be as she rather planned on finishing the fight. One had to finish what they start after all. Lose ends had to be taken care of and all that jazz. Jazz . . . Lita never liked her either. It had been mutual. But it didn't matter really; after all, everyone got their comeuppance sooner or later. Jazz got it sooner rather than later Lita mused, technicolour memories surfacing in her mind as she grabbed onto the ropes and pulled herself up. Returning to the ring, she stood next to Raven. He was smirking now, and he wrapped his arms around her shoulders gleefully.

She looked down at the man that Raven had immobilised.

She liked it when people were on their knees.

It was nice every now and then for her not to have to play that role.

"You slut, think you can come here and-"

She kicked Rhino in the jaw. He was bleeding now as well. People in the crowd were throwing cans and rubbish into the ring. Apparently they liked the pitiful excuse for a man lying by her feet. Like they knew anything. Like their opinions of this filth even mattered. She was jarred into reality as Raven offered some graphic suggestions to her. She managed to paste a smirk onto her face. One had to show a reaction to all this after all. Why go to all the trouble if she wasn't enjoying it in the manner Raven was? She made sure to show her teeth when she smirked. But she didn't waste time with pleasantries as she turned to Raven.

He almost seemed uncomfortable when she undid his belt.

She almost saw him blush.

Rhino swore again, "Bitch in sheep clothing, you're only good for one thing."

She didn't respond.

Not like anyone listened even when she used too.

But people did start to notice when she hogtied Rhino with Raven's belt. The leather cut into his skin. She noted this clinically . . . she viewed the whole matched clinically to tell the truth. With an air of detachment she raised Raven's hand. His win. Perhaps it was even hers. But he'd cared about it more. He'd taken more satisfaction in it. He was even taking pleasure of the sight before him.

"Finally found your rightful place, man beast." He commented dangerously.

The other men were rising, rolling around on the mat and outside the ring. She watched Raven's face. He wasn't examining the scene clinically; he was amusement by it. Sadistic mind. 'Dots' and pretty words. Pretty eyes. The man beast was on his knees, and Raven enjoyed looking down on the fallen wrestler. He had caused it. He had taken out these men. He was still standing. He was victorious. With a casual air, he slung an arm over her shoulder, and ruffled her blood stained hair.

"You didn't follow the chain of command,"

She wondered if that was a joke.

She didn't care to answer even if it wasn't one.

"This is the start of great things Dear," he told her, whispering into her ear.

She didn't care either way. Her eyes focused on the ladder she had used to fly into the ring. All it took was momentum. Flying through the air . . . falling through the air. She moved unconsciously towards it. Raven noticed. He pulled her back placing his arms around her waist. He pulled her close, and held her possessively.

But all it took was momentum.

She didn't want practice to make that perfect.

Her eyes drifted. Each arena was basically the same. Sweet voices whispered through her head, telling of other 'queue's' that one could take. After all, all it took was momentum. Surprise was everything. No one expected her to summersault into the ring from that height, and no one would expect her to . . . her eyes found the railing around second floor of seats. The light caught the metal, and it blinded her for a moment or two.

She could make do with that.

It was defiantly more then twenty meters high.

She could more than make do with that.

After all, all it took was momentum.

* * *


	4. Beguiling boy

* * *

Title: The overture and the underscore.

Written by Professional Scatterbrain.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything.

Email: ask and you shall receive.

Rating: Pg – 13

Contents warning: In the first chapter only there is violence against women, but after that there is nothing of the sort against Lita, and in some of the final chapters there is an analysis and condemnation of the actions committed against her.

Set/Spoilers: 2005 when Matt comes back to Raw.

Summary: Their friendship was torn to shreds, now they are more messed up then ever, and missing each other more than they will ever admit. Jeff is violently abusing the leniency he is treated with, while Lita is self destructing in mass-ticket-selling style.

Pairing: Jeff/Lita

* * *

** Chp 4: Beguiling boy **

* * *

Jeff quite liked the thought of having a title in his hands again.

He didn't mind which one.

Well, preferable not the tag team title.

He'd been down that road before, and everyone knew how that ended.

Now he just wanted a good fight for a belt.

John Cena was a good candidate for that. He loved that title. Made it into his little toy. Jeff idly considered taking out all those gem stones and hawking them – only after he won it of course. But he couldn't. Or rather, he shouldn't. He was a meant to be a good boy now. What was his new nickname now? Avenging something? Angelic something? With all those names he had to play the part that he'd been given. 'Good boys don't etcetera, etcetera, fill in the blank'. Good boys especially didn't beat the reigning, and very popular champion. It was against the unwritten rules god forbid. Down the hall, Jeff watched the man of the hour taunt Kurt Angle.

"If you want some, come get some!"

Seemed like someone else wanted that title as well. Kurt's eyes were certainly firmly fixed on the belt, if the confrontation between him and Cena was any indication of that. But he wasn't the only one to have his eyes on the prize and so forth. Jeff supposed he should think of a plan B, you know, to be realistic. Who had the Intercontinental Championship now? No names came to mind. Jeff knew he was meant to remember. Did Ric Flair still have it in his death grip? Or did one of the new guys have it? New guys. They all liked him. Well Jeff thought they did. It was probably an act. Not like that mattered either. It was all an act, but he was one hell of an actor so it all evened out in the end.

"Good luck out there tonight," announced a sweet voice whispering into his ear.

Trish.

She was one hell of an actress in her own right.

Or was it actor?

Damn, he was meant to be the PC one, he should know this.

She was made up of glistening eyes and curled hair. She still smelt like sugar perfume, and she still wore too much of it. But she hadn't really changed thus he pretty much knew how to react. So he brushed her hair behind her ear. She still liked that. She even blushed. She said he was a gentleman and he pretended to be complimented. He told her she was a lady and smiled with white teeth as he did so. She smiled too. She always liked the idea of her being Scarlet O'Hara to his . . . what was that Southern guys name?

Jeff was running late.

Time was a funny thing.

So little and so much of it.

But it wasn't like it mattered anyway.

"I resent that," she giggled at one of his cliché comments, "God Jeff, you haven't changed, you charmer!"

It was easy to waste time around Trish. It slipped through his fingers in time with her looks and touches. She was touching his arm now. He wondered what would happen if he shrugged it off. He wondered what would happen if he pushed it off. He wondered what would happen if he pushed her . . . his thought were drifted and shifting and he couldn't stop the images that flashed through his mind.

She didn't say a word.

Not a single word.

But now, each week in all her furious glory she swore and screamed. She was speaking Spanish again. He didn't like it. It unsettled him. It unsettled him more than he liked. But he'd still watched every match. Every single match along with every single piece of backstage footage was burned away in his memory. Like an old film, it played each night in his mind as he slumbered. She was still ruining everything.

Her fingerprints still leaving impressions on his life . . .

While her blood was still stuck under his nails . . .

God, she was like a fucking car crash still hanging over his head . . .

He had to stop thinking . . .

Yes, he did think holding a title would suit him.

He flirted with Trish. He towered above her, and stood too close to her. She apparently liked it, because now instead of touching his arm, she was touching the waistband of his jeans. He moved closer. Her reaction was as he'd predicted. She played with his belt buckle. If he didn't know better, he might have taken her coy expression at face value. But he did know better and . . . But no, southern gentlemen weren't meant to think things like that. He smiled at Trish, and excused himself just like the southern gentleman she still pictured him as.

She even smiled as he left.

He wondered how long that would last.

Probably for a while.

She had a public to face after all, and she did so love being cheered on by them now they all adored her again.

He was meant to be fighting some Masterpiece guy later that night before the main event. Jeff found himself unmoved by the prospect. He would win. There was no doubt in Jeff's mind about the outcome. It was simple. Chris Masters might smack him around the ring a bit, but he was uncoordinated, and unskilled. Steven Richards could attest to that. However, Jeff didn't plan on losing to Masters like Richards had. Nor did he plan on getting the broken nose either.

The glitter of diamond's spinning caught Jeff eye.

Like a bowyer bird he was drawn to it.

"You know what I think Kurt? I think those three 'I's' of yours-"

Cena jeering tone was cut off, as Kurt Angle tackled him into the wall. Jeff and a couple of other backstage crew members watched in interest. Well, it was more like just Jeff watching with interest. The crew members rushed around, calling for security to break up the fight. Pity. Jeff would have rather watched the brawl. After all, first hand knowledge about an opponent was worth its weight in gold.

First hand knowledge . . .

Yes, it did look like it would be worth its weight in gold . . .

He eyed the fallen belt which lay unattended by Cena.

Jeff did think he'd rather like having that belt around his waist.

Instead of helping break up the fight, Jeff watched the security guards pull Cena off Kurt, separating the two men. With wild eyes they glared at each other. Didn't they have a title match at the next pay per view? Jeff was pretty sure they did. Pretty sure. Pretty much. Pretty. . . Trish was the type that knew she was pretty and liked being told she was. Cena was probably the same. No wonder all his insults centred around his opponent being gay.

Jeff was distracted from his thoughts as the title was picked up.

Not by him, as Jeff would have liked, but by Cena.

Perhaps that should be changed.

With that thought in mind he entered the general manager's office. Eric Bischoff was not there. Probably out reining Kurt back in. Gone were the days where all Angle did was drink milk and sing Christmas carols with his extended family in the middle of the ring. However Jeff didn't really see why people we causing such a fuss about the 'Olympic Hero'. Made things more interesting really . . . well it would do if Jeff wasn't so terribly bored by it all.

His current troubling state of monotony did not suit him.

He did think a title reign might suit him much better.

It'd probably cancel out the boredom quite nicely.

"What are you doing here?" barked the grey haired General Manager.

Jeff shrugged. He didn't quite know either. He'd never really bothered to think it through. He just figured Bischoff would be the amigo to go to in order to make the whole removing Cena of his belt plan into a reality. Stretching out, he watched Eric's right eye tic as he slumped in his seat. Interesting reaction. It seemed that hadn't changed either. So Jeff propped his feet up on the older mans desk in response. Eric's jaw began to tic too. Jeff smiled a lazy smile, and lent back in his chair, motioning for Bischoff to sit.

"I want to have a championship match." He drawled.

Bischoff rolled his eyes. The younger man didn't notice. As per usual he avoided meeting Bischoff's eyes, and instead Jeff, almost like a thirteen year old pulled a pack of half open gum from his pocket, and shoved it into his mouth. He chewed it for a few seconds, then paused, picking out a few pieces of fluff that must have gotten stuck on the gum from its position in his jean pocket (much to Bischoff's disgust). Then he began to blow a bubble. He did so with great focus and concentration, and with a cross eyed expression.

Pop.

"Not bad." Jeff commented idly, before continuing condescendingly, "Anyway, as I was saying I want-"

"No."

The response was short, and it was snapped at Jeff. He blinked in response. That wasn't exactly how the conversation was meant to go. Quite the opposite actually. But he was a patient man, so he sat and waited. The fluttering of paper work filled the air was the two men sat in silence. One was ignoring the other. Jeff popped his gum again. Then spat it into his palm and shoved it under Bischoff's desk. The older man looked up, appalled and enraged.

"It'd lost its flavour," Jeff exampled with another shrug, as if that explained everything.

"You little fu-"

Jeff cut him off with a glittering smile, "So what about my match?"

Glittering smiles and glinting teeth. There was something so charming about him, something so alluring and fascinating that couldn't quite be articulated. But it was undeniable none the less. Bischoff signed his signature on another form, his mind ticking over. The younger Hardy had always sold seats, even at his lowest he was still remarkable hypnotizing in the ring. Even if he just another narcissistic bastard most of the time he was out of it.

He was a beguiling boy.

No one could deny that.

No one could deny his knack for destruction either.

Jeff rocked back and forth in his seat, the chair squeaking under the pressure of his weight. Wolf in sheep clothing waiting to pounce. Bischoff considered him carefully. He put his paperwork to the side, and linked his hands together, resting them lightly in front of him. Jeff seemed to gleam with a knowing smile of a child just about to get what they want in the moment he realised that he had Bischoff's undivided attention.

"You'll have to fight Carlito to become the number one contender." Bischoff conceded slowly, with a pained look on his face. "It was his title last. He's first in line to get it back unless you can show me a reason why he shouldn't be."

Jeff scowled, and lent back in his chair.

Think again.

"I want to fight Cena." Jeff voiced with confidence that almost bordered on arrogance. "I think I deserve it."

Bischoff laughed incredulously at Jeff's comment, "You think you deserve a championship match with John Cena? That's a bit rich even for a Hardy. Prey tell, what caused this belief?"

Jeff gave Bischoff a confused look, "I want that title."

"So? Most of the roster does too."

Bischoff was amused by this. But not for long. He's chortling was cut short as Jeff began twitching in his seat, unable to stay still. Bored now. Jeff was tired of waiting, and he was befuddled. But he should have known really. On closer inspection Bischoff was all talk, just made up of smoke and mirrors and little else. Jeff was tired of waiting for Bischoff to give him what he wanted.

Instead of storming off, Jeff decided to make his next response simple, so that Bischoff could understand.

"But _I_ want it."

Jeff didn't see what was so difficult about what he was asking. He was a little perplexed by the whole situation actually, everything should have been clear to Bischoff. He wanted the Championship. He had thought it through and decided just how to get it, so why wasn't Bischoff giving him the match? He'd given Kurt Angle all the chances he could possibly need so why was Bischoff refusing to do the same for him? It wasn't fair!

"Why do you want it?" Bischoff questioned, narrowing his eyes and leaning forward just a little to amuse the boy enough for him to leave after giving what would probably another spoilt and childish answer.

Jeff sighed, as if this it was all taking far longer than he expected, and then spoke slowly as if he was exampling something excoriating simple to a child. Pronouncing each word carefully, with a mock patient look on his youthful face, Jeff too lean a little forward in his chair to momentarily meet the General Managers eyes. He wanted to make sure Bischoff got it this time around, because Jeff thought it'd all be settled by now if it wasn't for the other man letting down the side.

"I think I'd like to have a title reign." He stated simply, as if that statement should make it all clear.

Bischoff blinked.

"No."

"Come on. I'll win it. I've got it all planned out."

This interested Bischoff.

He waited for Jeff to continue.

"Well . . ." Jeff mumbled, a little uncomfortable, "I don't have all the details yet . . . but I've got the general gist of how things will play out."

"And how's that?"

Jeff gave him a questioning look, asking why he needed to articulate what was ever so clear to him, "Why I win of course."

"But of course," Bischoff mocked in return.

Jeff frowned, "I want my match. Give it to me."

They stared at each other for a few moments, but then they were interrupted by the arrival of the three women who believed they were at the top of the roster feeding chain. Trish, Ashley, and that new girl. Jeff was a tad annoyed. He had yet to get what he wanted. He'd been so close and then in came Trish and her lot. Three people too many and he had still to sign the contract which would get the ball rolling. He stretched, rolling his shoulders.

"Did you hear what Torrie called me! Her behaviour is unacceptable!" Trish whined, her eyes flaming with anger.

When Trish ran out of breath, her latest lackey took over, " Victoria can't get away with what she did to me in the ring!"

Jeff examined Ashley's bruised back. Almost could see the impression of the stairs she'd been tossed onto. He had to admit, Victoria did do a good job. A slow smile crossed his face. He'd always liked Victoria. Dark hair and dark eyes. Eyes that always meet his when they spoke. He always made a point of looking into her eyes. One of two sets of eyes that he had always looked into . . . well, it seemed it was down to one now. He growled at that.

"Bischoff. I want my match." He snapped, losing his patience. "You can deal with the girl's petty squabbles later."

"Excuse me?" Ashley turned to him, holding up one of her hands to his face.

His thoughts drifted.

He wondered which of her manicured finger would get broken first.

Didn't matter really, Matt would kiss them better and she'd pretend that it had finally made her hardcore.

"Sorry," Jeff said in a tone that was anything but, "Bischoff and I were in the middle of something."

"Then you can wait." She responded with a flip of her hair, and a pointed glare.

"No, I rather think you should wait. Watch and learn as they say," Jeff drawled, making sure to look at her breasts when he spoke to her.

She didn't like that.

But apparently she liked it when Matt did it, because that's all his brother did when he spoke to her too.

Then Jeff turned his attention back to Bischoff, easily disregard the punk rock poser. He wasn't quite rude as he did this, but he edged so closely on it. Trish was smiling at him, apparently entertained by the show. But he didn't quite know for sure if she was. Once again he questioned what was under that shinny surface of hers. He'd bet it was far from amusement she was feeling as he complicated her mission for a match. All the while, Matt's little girlfriend was fuming, and Jeff grinned a crocked grin.

"You . . . You dog!" she spluttered finally "Do you even know who you're speaking to?"

He stuck a hand into his pocket, optimistically searching for more gum, and replied with a cheerful smile, "Well, if I'm a dog, I guess you're a bitc-"

Bischoff interrupted him, smirking, he was pleased, "Now, now, play nice. Jeff, I'll have the contract ready for you to sign by tomorrow morning. Trish, you can have your match with Victoria tonight. There, everything's settled."

"About time." Jeff grumbled.

"Hardy," Bischoff warned, "I suggest you go get ready for your match tonight."

Jeff scowled, "I don't want to."

Ashley gave him a dark look, but Jeff ignored her, more concerned about another waste of time. God, how did his brother put up with her? All those pointed looks and frowns matched with 'wonderfully insightfully' comments about him taking up _her_ time. Taking up her time? Fuck! Who the hell did she think she was? To actually think out of the two of them, he was the one wasting her time! How could anyone in their right mind put up with her bullshit? Well . . . at least if she was on her knees with her mouth being used for something other than talk then he wouldn't have to put up with either of her 'delightful' antics. Maybe that was how Matt coped with her . . .

Jeff's thoughts were interrupted by Bischoff smarmy voice, "If you get out of my office now I'll change it to a tag team match with you and Big Show facing off against Snitcky and Masters."

Snitsky . . .

He was walking around with her blood under his fingernails too.

Did he want to hurt her as much as . . . no, best not to think about that.

Had to keep focused.

Had to forget.

Had to put it all in the back of him mind.

"Make it Cena and Angle instead of the two oversized lumberjacks and I won't bother you until after I get my title,"

"Why don't I believe you?" Bischoff questioned with a sneer.

Jeff shrugged, "How about a week then?"

Bischoff snarled. The boy was pushing his patience. But with a schoolboy smile on his face, alternative between grinning handsomely at Trish and egotistically at the other two divas, Bischoff couldn't help but give in. It wasn't like it wasn't a big compromise really. Actually, with the younger Hardy's title shot, it'd make things interesting, especially if he acted like he did in the ring as he did here . . . it might even pay to send the diva's out. The boy knew how to handle them and if he was lucky . . . Bischoff paused, and then snapped;

"Deal. Now get out."

Jeff smirked at that.

He'd gotten what he wanted, sure it had taken a bit extra time, but he'd gotten it eventually.

Easy as.

* * *

R&R

* * *


	5. Speaking to a wall

* * *

Title: The overture and the underscore.

Written by Professional Scatterbrain.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything.

Distribution: ask and you shall receive.

Rating: Pg – 13

Contents warning: In the first chapter only there is violence against women, but after that there is nothing of the sort against Lita, and in some of the final chapters there is an analysis and condemnation of the actions committed against her.

Set/Spoilers: 2005 when Matt comes back to Raw.

Summary: Their friendship was torn to shreds, now they are more messed up then ever, and missing each other more than they will ever admit. Jeff is violently abusing the leniency he is treated with, while Lita is self destructing in mass-ticket-selling style.

Pairing: Jeff/Lita

* * *

** Chp 5: Speaking to a wall **

* * *

_'Catch me if you can .' _

_'Catch me if you can . . .' _

_'Catch me if you can?' _

_'Catch me?' _

Honey eyes and crimson lips whispered these words in his ears, and Raven was . . .

Raven was worried about her. How could he not? She was spinning so fast. Spending her days taking out anything that could move, Lita was unpredictable and increasingly confrontational. He was concerned. He was anxious. He was . . . affected by her. Being around her was like being stuck in a sandstorm. It was like breathing in knives and choking on them, and somehow it was becoming routine to for him to worry for her.

Those too-old eyes of hers were now filled away in the back of his mind.

Watching him.

Always watching him.

He was affected by her. He was not the only one though. Somehow Cassidy Riley now obsessed over her too, watching her overtly with huge glistening eyes while others watched with less overt eyes. Riley wanted to fight by her side, and unlike majority of the roster, voiced this to her on several occasions. The fact that she intimidated the young blonde wrestler didn't even seem to matter, and in some ways it just added to her allure.

Because she was painfully lovely.

It was those eyes, those too old eyes that were the problem.

She was disintegrating slowly and then suddenly before his eyes.

Perhaps it was his failing; a flame haired girl with dangerously wide eyes. She was his weakness; his achillis heel. She didn't talk as much anymore, and silence said too much. Stale silence. Dangerous silence. When she did speak, it was only in a language he didn't understand, and she only used it to threaten and double dare. In the end, that meant nothing. She was dangerous, and he was beginning to understand what she was to him; however that didn't mean he fully accepted that fact.

But, he admitted, he could have worse weaknesses.

Nor was she a weakness that he alone had.

Yet, after each and every one of her matches had ended, she was a bloody mess because of those very people that could name her as their weakness. With blood filled eyes and bruised limbs, she fought each fight without pausing. She wasn't invincible despite the facade she presented. She had about as many wins as she had loses. Yet, despite all the losses, Raven knew they didn't matter, because the only thing that did was the fact she had gone down fighting. That was the only acceptable loss to her. He wished it wasn't. Dawn and Tommy fused over Lita now, each of them anxious for her.

Raven knew he should he relieved by the two other names signed on the dotted line.

They were coming back, and Raven knew he should be relieved. Because Tommy was Lita's friend, and Dawn was Lita's close friend. She was the closest friend Lita still had. Perhaps Dawn was the closest friend Lita ever had. After all, despite the numerous betrayals they were still friends, and that had to mean something. It just had too. Because if it didn't . . .

Sometimes, when he was around Lita, he saw blood on his hands.

It was in those times, Raven understood why Jeff was angry at her.

It was strange to think Lita had spent so long taking care of others.

Sometimes when he was around her, he didn't understand a thing at all, because she confused him so.

So after a late night phone call and a couple of failed starts he met up with Jeff at another crappy bar. He'd already drunk too many cheap drinks, and he was already doubting his actions. Jeff arrived late, with a sharp smirk on his face and cigarette smoke on his breath. He greeted Raven with manners that soon gave way to thinly veiled condescension. Jeff didn't even try to be nice, not that Raven gave a damn.

The pair were not friends.

They could not claim to be, nor lie to each other about the reason they had meet.

"Are you going to bore me with pleasantries?" Jeff mocked with green crocodile eyes.

Jeff glinted and shone with blinding charisma, charming and flirting with everyone around him knowingly and unknowingly. Sitting opposite to him, Raven ordered another drink in response. Jeff smirked. Blinding charisma. That was the reason he was welcomed back into the fold, was forgiven so many times, and was allowed to act like he did. Holding all that talent in the palm of his hand and Raven couldn't even guess at why Jeff used it in the manner he did. Perhaps it was because he could. Perhaps he did so on principle. Anger and denial mixed like a cocktail through Jeff's veins, but Raven didn't care, and he didn't rise to the bait like so many others would have.

So many others had risen to the bait . . .

The WWE being one of them . . .

Jeff's older brother being another . . .

_'Her'_ being the one that never did.

"I see that the prodigal son has returned," Raven retorted, his face stretching out into a crocked smile, one that Jeff recognised but didn't understand fully. "And I see that you've been well and truly living up to your name."

"Cleaver,"

"I would have thought so."

They then avoided the topic, dancing around it, and drinking too much. But it didn't last for long. Raven was too used to these games to fall into playing it, and Jeff couldn't help but care. Because although rumours could fill locker room chatter, they couldn't satisfy his curiosity, and he was curious. He couldn't deny that. No, he certainly couldn't deny that.

But could deny many other things.

But not that.

After all, why did he come here if it wasn't to hear the truths that he needed like water and oxygen? Raven knew the reason, and he had always known. Always. That was why they had never been friends. And that was why they were meeting that night in another crappy bar identical to every other one Jeff had spent his nights getting drunk in over the past few months.

"I'm getting too old for this shit Jeffery," Raven finally stated, carefully watching the younger man's eye twitch when referred to by his full name, something only one other person did.

The person this meeting was about.

But then again, it had always been about that person.

Deny could change that.

"So now the real reason for being here is revealed." Jeff contended with a hint of rarely seen condescension.

Malicious jade eyes flashed as he lent back into the booth.

Such a good boy wasn't he? If only his many amigos could see him now. Wouldn't they be proud? After all, wasn't he living up to role that had been set to him? Wasn't he back to 'normal' now? Wasn't he? With a calculated smirk, and purposefully sparkling eyes Jeff was good at playing the good boy.

Raven wondered when it had become an act.

Because it hadn't started out this way.

It hadn't started out this way for either of them.

Raven laughed a cold laugh, "You knew the reason for tonight the moment I called you last week. Don't play the part of a fool when it does not fit."

Jeff was irritated, but as always he hid it well, "So this is about '_her'_,"

"Isn't it always?"

"I don't have time for rhetorical questions." Jeff spat.

"Only ones that are your own, if I am correct?"

Jeff shrugged his shoulders noncommittally, and looked down into his half empty drink. He signed a little. He ran a hand though his tangled hair. He wasn't a rainbow anymore. He wasn't anything anymore. He didn't like Raven. They were not friends. They had never been friends.

But now, all of a sudden, Raven was the only one left, and it had come to this.

Glancing up, Jeff asked stubbornly, "What is it?"

Raven paused for a moment.

He didn't know why, but for some unknown reason, the words were stuck in this throat. Choking him. He couldn't speak. He couldn't. It was strange to think, that out of all of the messes in his life, that she would be his weakness. Just some girl. Just some fucked up girl that jumped off ladders and steel cages without a second thought. It was strange that out of everything, out of all his neatly laid plans and agreements, that he'd . . . he needed to speak, he had too but . . .

"What?" Jeff snapped, his voice like sharpened knifes as he spoke.

"She's on the verge." Raven finally responded.

"So? It's not my problem if she's about to self destruct."

Raven gave him a look, "It was always your 'problem'; she was always yours to look after."

Raven knew few truths; she and Jeff were one of them. Because she had always been Jeff's to look after, right from the start. No one really paid attention in those old matches did they? How her eyes always flickered to watch the younger brother instead of the older. Friendship was deeper than 'love' back then, and Matt didn't even notice. But it wasn't like that mattered, Matt didn't really care, and nor did Lita when it came down to it. Raven had always wondered about that, about her place in Team Xtreme, but Lita wasn't one to talk, and second hand evidence was all he could gather about that period of her life. It seemed too, as Jeff scowled uncooperatively that he also would be an unwilling candidate for spilling those secrets.

"Not anymore she's not," Jeff challenged the older man, taking a rather large gulp of his beer as he did so, "Not anymore."

"Don't act like a child when you know the truth,"

"And what exactly is 'The Truth' Raven?" Jeff mocked, leaning back in his chair with a wide eyed look on his face that was meant to irritate. "Come on, don't leave me here in suspense."

Mocking.

Satire.

Jeff grinned that arrogant smile that he seemed to have copied from his brother before leaving the table to order another drink at the bar. As he did so, he unconsciously flirted with the waitress, easily living up to his namesake. Enigmatic charisma. Charismatic enigma. Raven couldn't really remember which it was now, and he didn't think the waitress cared either way as she scribbled out her telephone number on Jeff's arm. As she did so, Jeff smiled a smile of sugar and spice. But Raven knew that Jeff wasn't anything nice as his smile evolved into a cocky smirk the moment she turned her back on younger Hardy brother. Returning to the table, Jeff only paused to once again wink at the waitress, and give Raven a gleeful look, as if he was in on the whole thing.

"You need each other," Raven tried, suddenly exhausted for a reason he didn't understand.

But Jeff only laughed at the supposably sadistic wrestler sitting opposite him, "If we '_need'_ each other so much then why did this all happen? If we were '_meant'_ to be 'bestest friends forever and ever' then why did she do everything she did?"

It seemed that Jeff couldn't articulate her actions either.

Another taboo subject.

Then Jeff continued, his words and sentiments blurring and blending until Raven finally tuned out.

It was useless, it felt meaningless. Jeff was different now. Harder, harsher, and too much force instead of fire. He was lost without her. Utterly lost. Utterly listless. Utterly charmless. He was no longer the courteous gentleman. He just acted like one for boys and girls of the locker room. They didn't look close enough to see the truth. It was simpler to turn a blind eye. Because in the end, Jeff meant nothing without her, and Raven couldn't make him see that. Jeff refused to see it, and in doing so he was only becoming more and more like his brother.

Jeff already had the same smirk.

Seemed he'd forgotten her lazy open smile and replaced it with something Matt liked better. Seemed like he'd finally fallen into line, acting the way a Hardy boy should. Raven ran a hand over his head, avoiding the dark bruises, trying to settle himself. What good was being pulled into Jeff war of words and half hearted innuendos? The unspoken name, the unspoken reason for this all was the only 'truth' that the two men shared, but it was too much now for them to handle.

'The Truth', as Jeff had cynically named it was crystal clear to both of them.

Even if one of then didn't want to see it.

But even that was too much, because Jeff found it too hard to take.

Nothing could be achieved tonight.

Top forty night clubs were playing the soundtrack to Jeff's life. He was drowning in dry humping and childish acts; doing everything he could to avoid thinking. To avoid thinking about her. It always came back to her, and that was the trouble. That was Jeff's trouble. Because he hated that. No, he denied it because he hated her. He was violent and furious in a different style to that his brother had trademarked, and driving miles and miles for show after show couldn't hide that from Raven.

Jeff was meant to be the 'good one.'

The 'sweet' boy.

The 'naïve' boy.

But he wasn't. He didn't crave for recognition. Like her, Jeff didn't want it, and like her, he too was taking down anything and everything that moved. But instead of jumping of railing, he was breaking hearts and rules just because he could. She was the only thing true to him, and that had broken him. Raven knew why. He knew, yet Jeff . . . Jeff hated her and loved her too much, just like she was too much. Too dark, too light, too pure, and too untouchable.

Jeff didn't want to listen.

He never had.

He and Raven were not friends.

Speaking to Jeff was useless.

Because he didn't want to listen.

He didn't want to think.

All he wanted was a title rein to distract him from the blood under his fingernails.

Blood under his fingernails . . .

In the end, despite it all, everything came back to her.

And Jeff hated that, and he didn't want to listen to anyone telling him that.

So Raven fished a few bills out of his wallet, and gulped back the last sip of beer, "We're doing a show in the same city as you in a couple of weeks. Come and see her for yourself."

Then he left.

He just hoped Jeff would follow.

Because he and Lita needed to see each other.

They missed each other and it was becoming more obvious even if they didn't want to admit it. Looking over his shoulder, Raven watched as Jeff proceeded to make his way back over to the pretty waitress, smiling that conceited smile of his. Matt would be proud. So would all of Jeff's little friends. They all liked having Jeff back to normal, and adored having the Hardy Boyz back up to their tricks. Turning away from the cliché of a scene, Raven zipped up his leather jacket as he left the bar.

There was a reason he and Jeff weren't friends.

Raven just hoped there was a reason he and Lita were.

Because she was getting increasingly careless, while Jeff was practically getting away with murder with a cheerful grin pasted on his face.

It was almost funny; they both seemed so harmless at first . . .

However, underneath the jade eyes and firecracker hair, they were anything but.

* * *


	6. Edgar and Allen and Poe

* * *

Title: The overture and the underscore.

Written by Professional Scatterbrain.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything.

Email: ask and you shall receive.

Rating: First chapter is R, but everything else is Pg – 13

Contents warning: In the first chapter only there is violence against women, but after that there is nothing of the sort against Lita, and in some of the final chapters there is an analysis and condemnation of the actions committed against her.

Set/Spoilers: 2005 when Matt comes back to Raw.

Summary: Their friendship was torn to shreds, now they are more messed up then ever, and missing each other more than they will ever admit. Jeff is violently abusing the leniency he is treated with, while Lita is self destructing in mass-ticket-selling style.

Pairing: Jeff/Lita

* * *

** Chp 6: Edgar and Allen and Poe. **

* * *

Raven was darkness and danger.

He had coal eyes and a dazzling smirk which almost always were focused on her.

He believed in destiny. She didn't. She thought it was a weak excuse for vanity that men such as Randy Orton used to disguise their ego. But with Raven, destiny always meant more than a gold belt around his waist so she never ridiculed him about it. His mind was always tick tick ticking away, and she didn't fool herself into thinking anything otherwise.

Somehow, Lita couldn't help but like him.

She supposed that she always had. But she knew enough to keep her distance. It was best to keep eyes like his at arms length just in case . . . just in case. Just in case. He wasn't domesticated like the others, and she didn't fool herself into thinking she'd always been allied with him. Raven was not like Chris Benoit. He was not going to be loyal until the end. His self preservation instinct was fully intact. The McMahon's never managed to neuter him like Lita was sure they wanted to . . . she was certain they'd dreamed at least once or twice about making Raven into the new Undertaker or some crap like that. How could they not when Raven was what he so clearly was?

Too bad that all fell apart.

Like a house of cards . . .

She wondered if that was why he chose to ally himself with her.

Because she's left the WWE as a house of cards fell apart too.

But he'd never tell, and she wouldn't either. They both shared secrets, and they both knew how to keep them. Some sort of alliance had been forged between them. She knew that, but she hadn't forgotten his nature like so many had when he'd graced them with a cellophane promise. He was another Harry Lime, and his opponents were merely "Dot's" that he mirthfully dealt with each night. He was neither a compassionate man, nor a merciful one.

But she still liked him none the less.

He looked out for her, and he fought side by side with her.

Because of that, she found something almost dignified in him.

Almost a gentleman.

Almost, but not quite.

Only around her though.

She followed him around from time to time, and from time to time he followed her. She liked that too. Obsidian eyes were easy enough when one was distanced. There was distance. She never allowed herself to get too close. He was a man she liked, yet he was not a man she could trust. Or perhaps she did trust him. After all, he knew her nature, and that was why he allowed her as close as he did. But only perhaps. Yet there was no conflict between them, no need for her to explain. No begging for forgiveness.

But he could be dangerous.

He could be sadistic.

He always went too far with his head games. When he was at his worst, she didn't follow him around. Because she was tired of getting drunk and getting into bar fights. He liked to push people, to watch them crack and fracture. He picked fights with people he didn't know and caused them between people that he did. He liked fighting. It amused him to no end. She supposed that humanity fascinated him in a morbid way. He wasn't nice. He didn't have a heart of gold, and he certainly didn't see the point in lusting after one. Hearts of gold belonged to useless girls like Stacey and losers like Rey Mysterio in his opinion and he had voiced it often enough for her to know it by heart.

She knew that she unsettled him though.

Out of all the people in his life, she was one of the very few that understood why.

So she stayed out of his way when he was at his darkest.

Perhaps it could be defined as some lingering survival instinct.

She was still standing. Her survival instincts had kept her going this far hadn't they? She was still standing. Well, at least for now. Dawn Marie didn't like how Lita fought. Sometimes she would ague about it. Other times Lita would see the same spark in her eyes that had been placed there by Tommy Dreamer during the long dead ECW days. Lita understood survival. She understood that when it came down to it, people looked out for number one.

Raven was a barbaric man.

She didn't want to watch him do all the things he should have grown out of doing. Sometimes she felt like he hadn't changed. Sometimes he was crude, and vicious, and he would half taunt her because she was the only one not affected by his hype and the cult following that he arrogantly knew he had. Maybe that was why he could be so horrid, so dark. He did it on purpose. He acted so viciously out of choice. She didn't fool herself into thinking otherwise.

There was no romantic tortured soul cliché underneath his black eyes.

He made sure she knew that from the start in ECW and reminded her of it in TNA. It was in those dark moments when it seemed that those seconds of prophet like wisdom did not exist she questioned him. Doubted that he couldn't be that knowing when he got that drunk each night after the shows. Yet, he could be so perceptive, seeing so much, and in the end all she knew and cared about was the fact that although Raven didn't give a damn about much, he did give a damn about her . . . well, at least he did for now, and as long as she was one of the things he did give a damn about she was fine.

So she would wait.

Wait until he calmed down.

Perhaps that was how he was with her too. Waiting until she settled down before approaching her. Or perhaps he didn't. Perhaps she was just another person manipulated by him. Sighing a little, she stretched, getting ready for her match later that night. Well, it wasn't really 'her match', but she didn't like the looks _he_ was giving her, and Raven wouldn't mind her interference with AJ Styles. It wasn't Raven's match either but it paid to keep people on their toes, and benefits like that were, well worth it in the long run.

"Are you going to be careful out there?" She asked idly for no other reason but out of a sense of tradition, while she watched Raven tapped up his wrists ever so meticulously.

A smirk crossed his face.

He flicked his eyes to hers, winking condescendingly.

She nodded a little, her eyes sparkling, "Alright then, time for some chaotic violence,"

"That's a mouth full," he responded, disdainfully.

She wondered if his statement had a double meaning, it probably did. Sometimes she had to pay such close attention to him in order to understand. He reminded her of those old Spanish novels her Grandmother used to make her read, and how she struggled to understand the foreign language for the first few chapters. Eventually though, she understood, but with Raven, she didn't think she'd ever be able to comprehend him like the second language she now spoke fluently. Her understanding of him shifted from day to day . . . and she was left constantly racing after him in the bathe of his shadow.

That probably said something about herself too.

But she didn't bother to translate that.

Some things were better left alone.

"You are sunshine and everything good in the world," he suddenly crooned to her, his face close to hers as he opened the door of their changing room.

Silently she observed him clinically for a moment, and then turned away, with a soft smile on her face. There was a danger in being too perceptive, too knowing, and she didn't know if Raven was fully aware of that. Wisdom and naivety. Sometimes it seemed like he switched from different moods, different personalities so quickly that she couldn't keep up. Sometimes it felt like she was always running to catch up. Running to catch up. Playing catch up. Running, Playing. Failing. She shuddered. He noticed. He slung an arm over her shoulder; a gesture that was a little off, but not one that made her raise any hackles. Quietly they moved through the hallways up towards the ring.

They had a date to keep, and plans to ruin, and she could tell he was pleased about it.

He was always pleased about being punctual for date such as this.

"Smile pretty _Angelica_," he whispered as they hid behind the black curtains waiting to the right time to pounce.

Bathed in shadow, his teeth were awfully white, and they glinted in the light as he grinned at her. Tall and lethal, he was still as he waited for the right moment. She didn't wonder why people were threatened by him. It was quite obvious. His was a wolf that never bothered with sheep clothing instead choosing to embody menace in such a way that left her almost charmed by him.

Almost.

But she knew better.

Black eyes.

Knowing eyes.

"Why do you still call me that?" she questioned, a little confused.

"It is your name isn't it?"

"It hasn't been for a long time,"

"You've had so many names given by so many people," he responded quietly, his eyes trained on the match that was just beginning in the ring.

"No I haven't. Lita just came from Angelica; a nickname. It's just now no one calls me Angelica anymore."

"Do you think people forgot it?"

"Does it matter?" she responded in a feigned idle tone that almost suggested confusion.

"Yes."

"Why?" Lita questioned; her tone now curious.

The conversation suddenly wasn't so idly anymore.

Raven didn't remove his gaze from the match in front of them, but his hand touched her arm briefly. She wondered what the point of this conversation was. She wasn't having an identity crises. She knew exactly who she was, and who she had always been. She was certain of that knowledge, it was safe, and it was unchangeable.

Then he spoke, as if he'd been wondering around inside her mind, "No one ever really knows who they are Little One."

She went to reply, but he had seen the opening he was looking for, and starting out towards the match. Striding slowly with purpose, he moved within the shadows and darkness, and she found herself following, bitting her lip to keep from speaking. That conversation was over. Now was time to do what they came out here to do.

Besides, it didn't matter if her name was Lita or Angelica.

Her purpose tonight would be the same either way.

Someone once said that the cruellest lies were told in silence.

Another person said that he wanted to listen to good dancers speak.

Each and every time she allowed herself to be deceived by them, believing them to be something they weren't.

But at least she didn't trust Raven. At least she knew him, and she saw what he was. At least he had some sort of dignity where the others did not. With the others she had allowed herself to be blinded by pretty smiles and pretty words or alternatively willing ignorance that had got her hurt. More than once. More than twice. More than . . . At least she didn't trust Raven.

Trust was useless.

It got her hurt. It got her name ruined and her head busted open. It was simple once she was in the ring. It was about tactics and survival. Self preservation was simple to understand now. It was about keeping one self above water, and . . . they couldn't hit her if she kept moving. Or they shouldn't. But then again AJ Styles was always moved like quick silver, and at the end of the night her jaw was swollen and her head ached.

Yet she was still standing.

That was all that mattered.

As long as she was stills standing it was enough.

As long as she was not on her knees begging, then it was more than enough.

* * *

Sorry, no Jeff in this chapter but he'll be in the next one, as will Dawn Marie, Tommy Dreamer, and my three new fav wrestlers, The Mexicools. Anyway, R&R if you have the time.

* * *


	7. Please don't tell me

* * *

Title: The overture and the underscore. 

Written by Professional Scatterbrain.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything.

Email: ask and you shall receive.

Rating:Pg – 13

Contents warning: In the first chapter only there is violence against women, but after that there is nothing of the sort against Lita, and in some of the final chapters there is an analysis and condemnation of the actions committed against her.

Set/Spoilers: 2005 when Matt comes back to Raw.

Summary: Their friendship was torn to shreds, now they are more messed up then ever, and missing each other more than they will ever admit. Jeff is violently abusing the leniency he is treated with, while Lita is self destructing in mass-ticket-selling style.

Pairing: Jeff/Lita

**

* * *

**

**Chp7: Please don't tell me everything is wonderful now.**

* * *

Jeff was at another bar. 

Another bar and another headache.

His friends were all drinking. Heavily. Rob Van Dam was already drunk, and out on the dance floor he sloppily was kissing a pretty girl. He only paused to whisper slurred sweet nothings into her ear before he started kissing her again. Jeff knew he should really do something about it, but he couldn't be bothered caring. It wasn't like Rob would be the one hurt from it. Men like him never were. Hopefully the girl he was now groping was the same, because Jeff was tired of damage control.

Too bad the blonde by his side couldn't say the same thing.

Another spit and polish and she was positively gleaming under the lights.

Almost as good as new.

"Could you get me a drink?" Trish purred from his side, "Please?"

Her blue eyes and gleaming gold skin had appeared out of no where. Her latest reincarnation; the good girl look. She's almost perfected it, and it almost suited her. Almost. But he'd seen what came before, so he wasn't as convinced as the others were. Others such as his brother. But that wasn't his problem either. Matt could handle himself, or at least he thought he could.

After all, Matt kept saying that he could handle himself.

That and that no one was riding his coattails this time around.

Jeff supposed he should really care about that, but with Matt on SmackDown! it was easy not too. On a different roster it was quite simple not to mind what Matt said. Phone calls and monthly pay per views didn't amount to much when Jeff was never home, and Matt was spending his time at another persons place. Occasional meetings passed without great notation. Things were back to normal. _They_ were back to normal. Back to what they were without '_her'_, and as long as the rosters didn't stray into any great conflict everything was nice and stable between Jeff and his brother.

Or rather, everything was stable if '_she' _wasn't mentioned.

Trish smiled at him again.

What seducing skills she'd honed!

Jeff didn't know why she was paying him any attention. He was still confused by why she bothered. They'd done this act a couple of years ago when he was gullible and naïve, and she was . . . well, she'd never been naïve. But she managed too make herself look it when she smiled and twirled her necklace around her fingers. He wondered if she'd flipped her hair over her bronzed shoulder. She always did like that trick. Probably thought it completed her 'good girl next door' look.

Matt was by his side, two drinks in hand.

One for him, one for his new playboy centrefold girl.

Matt winked at him, already more than a little tipsy, "Go on then Jeff, it wouldn't be proper to leave such a pretty lady without a drink,"

"No it wouldn't," Trish giggled, giving him a slight push on the shoulder towards the bar.

Jeff wondered how many drink it would take. Three or four? Maybe even less. She liked those girly drinks, the ones that were sweet and colourful. It was a happy coincidence that they were filled with very hard liquor, and unlike the woman's' championship, Trish had next to no skill in holding it. With the bargirl serving him drinks at half price it looked like it would cost even less than he had originally predicted back in the hotel with Rob. Under twenty dollars. . . twenty dollars and . . . Jeff looked back over at her face.

She'd hate the thought that she could be bought for the night and for fewer than twenty dollars.

Perhaps he should tell her - what a wicked impulse it was to go over and . . .

But she was smiling so prettily so he banished any thought of acting on it from his mind.

Good boys shouldn't think so clinically about getting blonde blue eyed girls to open their knees.

You see, everything was meant to be so perfect. All his friends, all the girls, and all the drinks in the world were here and available. It was meant to be picture perfect. A celebration of the elite, of the lasting, and of everything else. Smiles and sluts parading around, and all Jeff had to do was spent a couple more dollars and Trish would press her candy coloured lips against his. She'd even tell him that she missed him, and then Matt would wink as if they were both thick as thieves, both back old tricks and getting closer to old goals that had been set in childhood.

Imaging; two Hardy champions!

It was a joint pay per view, and if Jeff knew any better he might had regretted everything.

Because it was so much more obvious when they were all together.

Or rather, when what was left was all gathered in a pitiful pile of remains.

He and Matt were on different shows now. Jeff had to remind himself of that fact again and again for some strange reason. It had been such a long time since they had been working side by side, yet somehow, for some inane reason Jeff had gotten attached to the idea even after only a month or two running with Matt on Raw.

But apparently Matt wanted to make his own mark.

One without his brother.

Jeff's role had, according to Matt, been fulfilled the night he . . . Jeff didn't want to think about that. To tell the truth, he didn't want to think at all. So he kissed Trish hard when he returned with her drink. He kissed her and kissed her because she was pretty and willing, and when she finished the drink he had bought her, he moved to the bar to get her another one.

Her second for the night.

The realisation unexpectedly made him feel sick to his stomach.

TNA.

They were gearing up for their pay per view, and he could tell.

The bar had the station tuned to watch, and Jeff couldn't help himself from being pulled in. His eyes strayed without his permission to the static filled television screen that flickered with life. It was like he just couldn't help himself. But he didn't recognise a thing. Everything was different, and he felt oddly alienated even though he had no right to feel anything anymore. WWE was the greener pasture wasn't it? TNA wasn't his anymore. Maybe it never was. But now, with his name on a different roster, with a title shot and a pay check to prove it, Jeff's mind was unable to recognise the place that he had once belong to. All he could tell was that TNA was gearing up for their next pay per view.

Victoria came up and stood next to him.

He didn't know why, but he liked her well enough so he didn't move.

This time last year he'd been getting ready for TNA's pay per view.

No, actually, he had avoided it.

"They're making an awful mess out of it," Victoria commented, "I thought they would have known better by now."

She wrinkled her nose at the graphics and bloodstained ring. She'd been spending too much time around Candace Michelle. But her eyes narrowed when the match was announced. Dark eyes and tight lips. She wasn't pleased. Even with a woman's title belt high on her list of priorities, she scowled as if she was personally insulted. It looked as though she hadn't totally been domesticated by Candace Michelle despite the pink pearls and metallic heels she was now sporting.

Still waters ran deep after all.

But that should have been obvious.

His eyes flicked back to the television screen.

He couldn't breathe.

_"Give me that, you try hard."_ Lita swore at the announcer, snatching the microphone out of his hands.

She paced around the ring, her movements fluid and graceful. Her eyes were steady, but as she ran them over the hissing crowd, Jeff could tell she was more alert than she should have had reason to be. After affects maybe? Probably? Certainly. With a purposeful roll of her eyes, she then made herself look at ease, as if she owned the ring, but . . . there was always something underneath. She didn't check for escape routes normally. But now she did. A hint of instability echoed as she examined the arena behind those double dare eyes of hers. Maybe it was because Raven wasn't by her side. Or maybe it was because Tommy Dreamer was in the back.

But whatever it was, it was gone before it could be translated.

It rare to see anything from her anymore; blank eyes and belt buckles defined her. Now no one could see a single thing when they looked at those blank eyes of hers. Blank eyes and blank stares. She was untranslatable and introverted. Instead of being able to read her fluently she was stone and she was set, and Jeff hated her for even more for that.

He almost didn't recognise her.

Maybe he didn't recognise her at all.

All he'd been doing since he watched her body crash into the concrete ground back when he returned to the WWE was watch her. Watch her matches, watch her interviews, watch any and all backstage footage. He couldn't stop. Each moment seemed to slip out of his grasp, and he hated her for it. Because in each second he saw her over the air waves she was something he didn't want to see. She was feared and she was fierce, and he hated her more and more.

She just never stopped.

She just never stopped acting like she was acting.

Prancing around the ring she was swearing at the crowd, making harsh horrid comments.

She was awfully beautiful though, and he ground his teeth as he looked on.

Her eyes however, were not beautiful. They were dark and cold, and each motion seemed to make her audience uneasy. Because they'd all loved her so at one point, and now . . . now she was so painfully  
difficult to watch. Agonisingly dangerous. Which made them all agonisingly awkward. She was blank eyes and belt buckles. She was pushing every button on purpose, and blurring each boundary without interruption. For there was no Trish to focus her fury, no General Manager to order her around, and no one else left from when she was punk rock perfect.

She'd fallen without grace.

Now she moved with it, but it seemed to act as a parody. Mocking everyone around her. It was as if she was in on this huge joke about everyone else but she didn't even care. Raven had his black eyes, and although he had her back in the ring and most certainly out of it as well, she didn't give a damn. She didn't give a damn about anything. Or anyone.

She moved like everything was expendable, especially herself.

She destroyed herself each match, and in each fight she knowingly provoked. She didn't fight fair, and she didn't stop. It was no longer about winning. It had evolved into something different, something more menacing. It was about power, and she had become very powerful. TNA hated and adored her with equal passion, treasuring and despising the contract where she had signed her talents and her name neatly along a dotted line.

What an acquisition she ended up being!

In the ring she spread a dazzling smile across her face; ignoring the hostile crowd as she spoke clearly and charmingly, _"Now, if you please, stand up for Dawn Marie in her first match for TNA,"_

Dawn Marie?

Even Victoria was surprised, and Jeff was made aware of her displeasure as the raven haired woman slammed her glass down on the counter of the bar. Victoria had never liked Dawn. Her dislike boiled under the surface, always bubbling through whenever Dawn wasn't looking. But never when Dawn was looking. The brunette might not have been in the same wrestler league as Victoria, but she did have her pull outside of the ring. Lita being one of Dawn's firmest supporters. Even when they were at each others throats, Lita, almost like a sibling had seen it as her right to fight with Dawn and no one else's.

Many people had hated Dawn for the pull she had over Lita.

Jeff at one time had been one of them.

He wondered if Dawn hated him now it was all said and done.

The brunette in questioned bounded down to the ring, her eyes filled with life. She really was vivacious, truly the centre of everyone's attention. No one could change that; Jeff knew, he'd seen more than a few people try and fail. Victoria's mouth tightened further when Lita and Dawn embraced, and then parted to shake hands before the match began. It had been quite a while since Lita had been in a women's match, and even longer since she played fair in one. The same sentiment could be applied to Dawn, but even more so as she'd taken a break from wrestling to give birth.

"Lita was always better than Dawn Marie," Victoria stated as the redhead took Dawn down with a clothesline. "I don't know what Dawn's doing wasting her time trying to come back to the ring and act like  
she belongs there."

A couple of other people now were watching.

They all pretended they were only watching to swear at both women, calling them horrid names.

They pretended they were only watching just to see how far the two had fallen.

Because why else would they watch if not to see how much respect the women had lost?

But when Dawn grabbed Lita, viciously throwing her out of the ring by her hair, those facades fractured. The brunette, made her way out of the ring, but as she slipped her legs through the ropes, Lita tripped her, causing her to tumble to the ground. Soon they were battling around the edges of the ring, barely avoiding taking the referee out. This wasn't a girl fight. It wasn't a gimmick match either. It was dangerous and it was out of control.

They may have had their great falls into disgrace, but in the ring they were violent marauders.

What vicious things they were!

They moved like predators. Lita more so then Dawn. But then again the redhead had always gone to extremes. How else could one make an impact otherwise? Yet Dawn did not allow herself to be outdone; her right hook sent her friend face first into the barricades. Lita landed with a sicking crunch that all the microphones picked up and transmitted across the country. The marvels of technology at work. Why, it was all so realistic wasn't it?

Jeff wanted to say that he didn't expect her' to get up.

But he still knew better.

And he still hated her for that.

Her eyes were wide and focused though, and she somersaulted out of Dawn's reach when the brunette moved in for the kill. Somehow Lita managed to kick out as she tumbled turned. Learnt a new trick or two in her time at TNA. Jeff couldn't say the same. Ferociously hazel eyes still invaded his dreams. He tried to concentrate. He'd lost track of the match. Lita had managed to kick out as she tumbled turned and Dawn stumbled. Using that, Lita moved to her feet and sent Dawn reeling with a well timed dropkick expertly executed before Lita lost a single second.

But then, she stopped.

Her honey eyes were dark and sharp, like lightening about to strike.

Her hair tangled around her face as she absentmindedly held out a hand to help Dawn up.

Then she jumped into the crowd.

Jeff had never seen anything like it. Reaching the third row, she faced off against a guy that towered over her, and broke his nose with one smooth motion. It all seemed to happen at once, time speeding up like a sickening head rush of horror. Crimson blood as red as her hair, spurted out of the man's now shattered nose and ran down his chin. It drip, drip, dripped down his shirt, staining it. The man was stunned, unable to comprehend what had just happened. She took advantage of it, jumping on him and smashing his cheekbones against the metal folding chair he had been sitting on.

She was frenzied, demented, and she did peoples heads in.

Dawn was scrambling through the crowd, a fierce look on her face.

"Leave it! Back of Li!" she screamed, her hands around the redhead's waist, wrenching her of the man.

"Did you hear what he said about us? You're the little cnt, not us, you prick!" Lita screamed just as furiously in response, trying to escape her friends hold in order to resume the fight.

Dawn held onto Lita, and around Jeff he could feel the other members of the WWE rosters shifting uncomfortable on their feet, gulping down their drinks and lighting up cigarettes. The scene in front of them spoke with a vein of violence they all understood but none of them acted upon. It was a step none were willing to take. Forbidden. Yet if Jeff wanted to he could remember her taking it long ago, back when she was with Essa.

Lita was wild and she was threatening.

She turned as many people off as she did on.

And she turned a hell of a lot of people on.

Lita was struggling, and Dawn was having a tough time holding on to her. The camera flashed to show Raven and Tommy rushing though the curtains. But then it changed back to Dawn and Lita. There was a glittering look on Dawn's face, one that many people had seen before. Rey Mysterio muttered something in Spanish, and Jeff got the feeling that it harked back to his ECW days.

"Let me go," Lita was screaming. "You heard what he called us!"

"Lita, it's the guy next to him that said it." Dawn snapped, then let releasing Lita, the brunette punched the other guy soundly in the face.

The men in the crowd were yelling obscenities, and it seemed to only hype the two women up. One guy got in Dawn's face, pushing her back, and in response she grounded her boots into his foot, probably breaking a couple of his toes. Vehement eyes and mob intentions filled the flickering TV screen in the bar, and this time, no one dared look away from the TNA program.

"Did you get your money's worth?" Dawn spat viciously with brutal brown eyes, "Come on, you wanted to see a bitch fight. You were yelling for one weren't you? Get up and have one you bitch."

There was something so aggressive in both women, something so threatening that it was strangely alluring. Lita was speaking in Spanish now. She'd been doing that a lot. It had been years since he last heard her speak her second language, and it was just as perfectly fluent as it had been when she ran with Essa . . . she had stopped speaking Spanish after he and Matt rescued her from him. Now, hearing it again, it jolted Jeff, and made him feel awkward and uncomfortable.

"I hope she doesn't kiss her mother with that mouth," jeered Super Crazy from The Mexicool's he, Psicosis and Juventud as they moved through the crowd, snarling a little at Rey and Rob, "Such a pretty lady saying all those horrid things. Who would have thought it?"

Jeff couldn't tear his eyes away from the screen.

None of them could.

Not even if they wanted too.

Because they were all now standing in the middle of the ring. All four of them. Lita, Raven, Dawn Marie, and Tommy. It was a powerful partnership. Even if Raven was slightly uncomfortable with, it was still threatening even just to the audience watching it. Bloodied and callous, Lita and Dawn stood side by side with Tommy and Raven, while the crowd watching jeered and swore spiteful. But they were unaffected and strangely foreboding, as if they'd finished with one plan of action, and had just reached the next stage of actualization.

It was like the four of them were in on some grand laugh that was lost on everybody else.

Lita took hold of the microphone offered to her. She was the speaker for the group it seemed. Another task had been laid upon her shoulders. She had a dark look on her face, and Dawn rested her chin on the redheads shoulder as Lita spoke. The seeming innocence of Dawn's gesture juxtaposed harshly with the vicious words that left Lita's mouth.

"Sometimes," she drawled slowly and captivatingly, "Sometimes, people should know better."

There was something vaguely haunting about that very moment.

Somehow, Jeff knew he'd never forget it.

Somehow he knew that he'd have it replaying inside his head each night for the rest of his life.

Her eyes, meeting the camera lenses wide and clear reverberated within him, and he could not look away. She broke out into a crocked smile, and Dawn laughed, pulling the redhead into her long arms as Raven relieved her of the microphone. The two women stood with arms looped over each others shoulders, smiling in such an enchantingly manner that Jeff felt sick.

The friendship, between Dawn Marie and Lita seemed impossibly and unthinkable loyal and Jeff had to remind himself that years ago it had been shattered needlessly by his brother. But people didn't remember that, and only a couple of well placed comments from the man himself about dogs running in packs filled the silence as Raven waited for the volatile crowd to quiet.

"We're the new Team Xtreme."

Somehow, as the words left Raven's mouth, instead of what he was meant to be thinking, Jeff thought of only one thing.

He missed the old Team Xtreme.

And he hated her for that.

She had ruined everything.

Nothing was spared.

Everything had been so close to perfect and then she just had to . . .

Faux passionate eyes were good enough for him. So instead of dreams about hazel eyes and soundless screams he returned to the table with Trish's drink. He sat, and he charmed her. His hollow words were  
more than enough, and he wanted to be surprised but he wasn't. Because the taxi ride back to the hotel cost more than her drinks. That was even after she played for half of it.

Blue eyes and blonde hair.

Wait . . . didn't Trish used to have brown eyes?

Wonders of contact lenses . . . not like Jeff cared.

He'd done this all long ago when she'd first tried her hand at the good girl act. It had seemed so much more convincing then. Yet, back then he hadn't had to play the part of the good boy. Good boy. That's how she saw him. Or at least that was how Jeff thought she perceived him. But he wasn't quite sure. However none of that mattered because she was pretty, and she was willing, and when he bit into her, she was like caster sugar.

Yet, when all was said and done, when Trish lay sleeping by his side and Matt SMS's his approval, Jeff . . .

He wanted so badly to sleep but . . .

She still haunted Jeff's dreams.

He couldn't escape those hazel eyes, and those fingerprints he'd left on her skin.

He just couldn't.

* * *

Sorry about the lack of regular updates; though to make it up to you, I wrote a Lita/Christian fic called 'The Good Samaritan'. Basically this is a remedy to all the damsel in distress fics that have been floating around lately. In my fic, I wrote Lita as someone whose calm, and definatly in control, while Christian (like in 'A demonstration of how to drive guys off') is petty and (not like in 'A demonstration of how to drive guys off) has a very negative outlook on humanity. Go check it out if you have time. 

Enough PR, anyway I hope you enjoyed this chapter and the reapperance of Tommy Dreamer and Dawn Marie.

* * *


	8. Eavesdropping

* * *

Title: The overture and the underscore. 

Written by Professional Scatterbrain.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything.

Email: ask and you shall receive.

Rating: Pg – 13

Contents warning: In the first chapter only there is violence against women, but after that there is nothing of the sort against Lita, and in some of the final chapters there is an analysis and condemnation of the actions committed against her.

Set/Spoilers: 2005 when Matt comes back to Raw.

Summary: Their friendship was torn to shreds, now they are more messed up then ever, and missing each other more than they will ever admit. Jeff is violently abusing the leniency he is treated with, while Lita is self destructing in mass-ticket-selling style.

Pairing: Jeff/Lita

* * *

**Chp 8: Eavesdropping **

* * *

She had been suspended, along with Dawn, for three months in response to their actions.

When they returned, they did so only to reclaim their rightful place at the top of the food chain.

More fights were started and finished. More fights were won and lost. Lita's score card altered, her column of wins increasing substantially. This was thanks mostly to Dawn. She abhorred taking any sort of risk without any sort of reward. She found such a pursuit inane and inherently pointless. But Lita didn't care. Dawn and Lita had always had their differences; that was just one of them. Lita's head was always in the fight, not on the win. This mindset, to the brunette had always worried her, yet it seemed unalterable, as if it had been their since birth.

But it didn't used to be like that.

At one point, the voices of destruction had been silenced by boyish eyes.

But that was a long time ago. A very long time ago and people had such short memories. Like goldfish swimming around in their little glass tanks. Raven remembered, he wouldn't ever forget. Maybe that was why he noticed the change in her. Maybe that was why he sent tickets instead of relying on the hope that they would be bought, and maybe that was why he didn't allow her out of his sight for a single moment any more.

Sometimes she acted like she had nothing left.

As if everything was decaying around her, and since she couldn't stop it, she lent the occasional hand.

Detached and disconnected, he couldn't . . . she only cared about the fight, not the win, and he refused to let her go down fighting just because she could. An abstracted thinker, and an illogical fighter, Raven was . . . worried about her. She and Dawn might have returned the moment they could, but only Dawn returned with any remaining vestiges of self preservation. Lita only returned with capricious survival instincts, and it showed. But it hadn't mattered earlier that night, as it was Lita who secured the win for Dawn instead of vice versa.

It was late, when the new Team Xtreme left the arena.

In the threadbare light, they parted and moved as if they didn't know each others. Tommy and Dawn were swallowed whole into the darkness, her dark eyes fading into obscurity as Raven's eyes adjusted to the light. By the time that had happened, the flame covered Lita had slipped away. Her lithe form cutting a jagged silhouette as she moved seamlessly through the gloom of night; normally Raven would not follow. Normally Raven would too cut his own corridor through the night just like she did.

However that night he did not.

That night he followed her.

"Isn't it funny how you never said a word?"

Lita gave Raven a look and the finger. Her eyes were hard and cold. Instability surrounded her, and she glared at Raven before turning on her heal. She limped away to her car, throwing her bags in with zest. She was not one to put up with fools, and in her eyes, anyone that brought up that 'incident' was such. Yet on that night, Raven paid no heed. Her volatility matched his, and refused to lapse into complacency just because of those too old eyes of hers.

She hadn't spoken about it, not one word.

Sometimes Raven could almost believe nothing had happened.

She was so good at playing the part. With a brilliantly knowing smile and a careful joke she was like she always was and he forgot. He forgot that she used to be the audiences darling, and that she used to be everyone's friend backstage. He forgot that she used to hold everyone in the palm of her hand, and that everyone had clamoured for that position.

All she had to do was look as him and he forgot.

It was awful.

Because, sometimes, when she was at her most brilliant, her most daring and her most dangerous, he forgot 'what happened'. He forgot 'what happened'. He forgot . . . he forgot because it was easy too, because if she tried she could be as charismatic as Jeff, and . . . at time Raven could almost believe that it had always been as it was in that moment, that they had always fought side by side, that they always head each others back.

It was so easy to believe what he now found himself selfishly wanting to believe.

It was so easy to . . . forget.

Forgot.

Forgotten.

But he hadn't forgotten who was in the audience. Seated in one of the middle rows to the left. Hidden in plain sight. Or rather, hidden from her in his seat under the bright lights which blinded her to his presence. But Raven had seen. It was hard not too see if you knew where to look, and Raven had. He had bought the ticket after all. He knew the stand, the row, and the seat number. He knew exactly where to look. Jeff was there. In the west stand, in row 38, and in seat K. He had been there and . . .

He hadn't taken his eyes of Lita.

Not even for a single second.

Tonight had been a good night.

She hadn't gone too far. She'd reined herself in, and focused her actions more so than usual. Perhaps, if Raven wished to, he could say she did so, because she subconsciously sensed 'him'. Yet he did not. He did not presume to say anything of the sort about her, because even though, she'd been restrained, she was still threatening. Her taped up ribs accounted for the toil of her labour in the ring.

She was not pleased with him, that much he could attain easily.

Ignoring her look of distain, he got into her car, claiming a lift that was never offered.

"To the hotel, James." He ordered

"Hell no Lenore," she stated firmly, "Find another ride. I'm staying somewhere else tonight."

TNA and the WWE were in town.

The same town to be specific.

They were competing, and although it wasn't an evenly matched fight, TNA still liked to have their presence felt by its rival. One of the latest publicity stunts was booking rooms at the same hotel as the Raw brand. Some people, especially Jeff Jarrett and his cronies, were itching to get back to the hotel, lusting after another fight, and another classic moment to be played over and over on the highlight reel.

Lita on the other hand was not.

Raven didn't mind either way. He had a couple of cards yet to deal, and although his days were spent with his darling Lita, he did have other projects on the go. One of them was taking some retribution for a specific incident that occurred while he was in the WWE. Lita was not to know about it. She might want to walk about with blank eyes, but her compassion could not be hidden, and no one could avoid seeing it in her. No matter how much they might not want too.

" Jericho's been calling me," she suddenly told him as she entered the highway.

A macabre smirk spread across his face as he answered, "Leaving messages worthy of a mediocre love ballads that the masses consume like popcorn? Or just songs for girls like you to dance too?"

She ran a hand through her hair, and snorted. Maybe she was immune to him. She was no longer that surprised by any comments to leave his mouth. He was a critically man, and one that was both before his time and after it. Sliding his hand into her bag he took out her mobile, glancing at each of the missed calls and text messages.

One from almost everybody now.

The attendance roll was almost fully marked.

It seemed that nobody wanted to play truant when Lita was once again becoming ever so painfully lovely.

"The division of labour has given you a definite function," he decided sagely glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

Large eyes were covered by dark glasses. It was dark outside, but she'd taken a hit to the corner of her eye; not a bad hit, but she was self conscious about it. Well that was what Tommy had said. He'd been at her side that night. Another lookout keeping an eye on the flame haired diva.

Or should that be ex-diva?

She'd never liked the title so Raven guessed it was the latter. But besides that, she did look stunning, and like always she was unaware of it. Lips painted deep blood red matched the masses of bangles around her thin wrists. Dark clothes and whiter than white teeth. An unknowing siren. More than a few men on the roster were now lusting after her.

But that didn't mean a thing.

"Aren't you going to tell me he's not worth it?" she asked cryptically, her tone suggesting that she was not asking a rhetorically question.

Winding down the window, he toyed with the idea of sticking his head out. They were driving near the beaches now, the salt air bitting and very telling. He wondered what she'd do if he tried anything. She'd dealt with worse, watching out for him in the ring and out of it for months now. She was a reckless driver, and she ignored the speed limits and road rules, and Raven wondered yet again what had happened on those road trips while she was still a member of the original Team Xtreme.

Suddenly Raven wanted a fight, and if he couldn't have one he wanted to start one.

Dark eyes met her honeyed lobs, "I think you should hurt Jericho. Teach him what come from acting like he was better than you."

She clicked her tongue, "What pleasure can be had from that?"

Lita wasn't easily taken aback, and the line between genius and madman was continually blurred when he was around her. Sanity could mean little from time to time when she glanced at him with such idleness, as if daring him to test her. Daring him to step just that little bit further than before, pushing the boundaries a little more than last time. Queen of Xtreme or Queen of something else?

But he wanted to shock her.

" Jericho wants to fuck you." he swore; his body bathed in the shadows and his eyes almost perfectly uniformed to the night sky.

She blushed a little at that, but hid it well with a carefully pitched smile, "As his ex's; Stephanie and Trish speak volumes to what his tastes are in women."

"Maybe you're the one that got away." Raven suggested with a cruel snigger, "After all, Y2J can't be picture perfect all the time."

"Do I sense jealousy knocking at you door? Green with envy, my Dear?"

He ignored her, the image of the blonde man whom had once been one of her closest friends in his minds eye, "Well, Jericho's had a brunette, and a blonde, what's left? Men like him always need to complete the set."

She speed around a corner running through a red light, "Then I guess Victoria's going to find herself with a certain Canadian trying to ring her bell in the foreseeable future."

"The lights were red. You broke the law." He told her clinically.

She almost made him feel civilised from time to time. This was one of those rare moments when she looked at him like he was the only person she trusted. But he wasn't civilised. Not anymore. That had been taken from him many years ago when he had almost though he was in love. Or maybe it was lust. He didn't know. Didn't care. Lita was true, and it unnerved him when she made him feel like a gentleman.

"No one's on the road at this time of the night." She replied simply, as if this was a suitable answer to his comment on her driving skills.

He shrugged, and lent right out of the window, shivering a little as the wind rushed past him, finding its way into and under his clothes. His skin felt chilled and numb, and he knew Lita was concerned when she turned on the heater. She'd patched him up after the match too. She'd been doing that for a while now. Unlike Trish, Lita didn't have any formal training, but she'd been around people like him long enough to know how to mend them. There was something reliable and comforting about knowing she was going to take care of him, and he'd never known anything like it before.

"God given grace with a face," she told him after he wound up the windows.

He was tired, so he told her one of the only truths he knew.

"No one remembers, and no one really cares anymore," Raven stated detachedly, "The only people that do give a shit over what you did, are you and Jeff."

Silence.

Bloodless knuckles gripped the steering wheel.

Bold and black eyed he stared out the window and spoke again, "You cheated on your boyfriend with his so called best friend. There, I've finally said it."

"Everybody's said it Raven," she quipped in a tight voice.

"Who give a flying fuck about 'them'?" he retorted in the same tone.

Her lips tightened. She pushed her shoulders straight, giving her a perfect posture. An unnatural posture. She was uncomfortable, and she was putting up the only front that still worked. But he didn't particular care about that. He knew her, and so he didn't see why it should matter, nor why he should take it into account.

"Edge has gone back to his scrawny wife, who spends her days making his life miserable, and Matt has gotten himself a new girlfriend," then Raven smirked, "Coincidently, Matt make her life miserable because he's still obsessed over you my dear one."

"Why is that a coincidence?" Lita questioned archly, calling his euphemism with a stoicness that Raven found rather appealing.

Changing the subject, Raven lent closer to her, breathing her in, "Jeff and you Dearest, are the only ones that still care about that whole mess, and he only cares because it messed up his almost perfect world, and you only care because you don't have him."

She didn't even flinch.

"I do care."

But for what, she didn't say.

He smirked at her response, his teeth glinting in the passing streetlights, "If Jeff wasn't involved in this you wouldn't even think about it. Edge and Matt don't mean a thing to you, and I don't think they ever did."

"Don't think that," came her snarling rebuttal to his last point, "Besides, what do you know about 'caring'?"

"I care for you Little One."

He supposed he did. But it was all relative. He didn't exactly have the best track record, and his frame of mind was not like hers. But he was not indifferent to her. He did care for her. If he didn't why would he bother? Why would anyone be bothered with her if they didn't care for her in some respect? Therefore, he came to the rather unsurprising realisation that she was not an inconsequential figure in his life.

"Don't lie."

"Lie? Like Jericho is lying to you? 'Just wanted to catch up – call me Red.' What a charming invitation. That's why you're not going back to the hotel isn't it? I didn't think you were that weak; running away like a child."

Her eyes flashed with fury, "Do not call me weak."

"But it's so fitting." He mocked threateningly, "A couple of fair-weather friends give you a 'tinkle' as Stacy puts it ever to delightfully, and you're-"

"I don't have to do anything I don't want too."

He snorted at this, and lent back in his seat, "I'm sure Jericho would love to _do_ you, actually I'm certain not only would he love to 'pin you', but they'd be a line of willing suitors more than willing to give you their 'finishing move',"

"Lovely Allan, just lovely," was her response as she glanced over at the map, "Am I to suppose you'd be among the line of willing suitors. Because although I've experienced the Raven Effect DDT in the ring, I have yet to experience it in the bedro-"

He cut her off, "Is this were I get left on the middle of the interstate?"

"Whatever gave you that expression?" she queried with a gleeful smile on her face.

He shrugged, not concerned, "You're in love with Jeff."

She didn't answer him.

Didn't even look at him.

"Tell me something about him Li," he ordered with dark eyes carefully watching her reaction.

"Which 'him'?"

"You know which him. Jeff. Your favourite Hardy Boy, the one that you'd do anything for-"

"That's quite enough," she sniffed.

She was getting closer to the hotel, and the conversation was coming to a close sooner than Raven had hoped. But as she bit her lip, he saw something in her eyes; a flicker of something that made him rethink everything. She ran a hand through her tangled hair, and gave him a tired smile.

"What can I tell you that you don't already know?"

"You know him better than anyone else," he countered easily, and when she went to reply he cut her off, "Tell me anything. Come on, this is your one chance to tell me something that might make me like him."

She made a face at him, and he laughed. She was a doll. Switching on some music, she rolled her shoulders, obviously trying to think. Raven wondered if this was how she had been after leaving ECW. He'd always known there was a part of her than over analysed things, but with that look on her face now, he wondered just how deep that part of herself ran.

Bitting her lip, she finally spoke, "He always wanted to be a super hero."

"Superman wannabee? One of Hurricane's S.H.I.T's; Super Hero in Training?"

"Don't interrupt," she told him sharply, before continuing in a softer tone, "But he was such a scrawny kid. Matt always had to save him. Jeff hated that; hated not being equal to Matt. He always thought Matt was better. Always. I think Jeff wanted to save me, or if not me, another damsel in distress. You know the whole 'save the day and get the girl' song and dance."

Her tone was so soft, and she looked softer too. Less dangerous, and more controlled. Then she gave him an ironic smile, and turned away. Honeyed eyes were hooded, and blank, and Raven couldn't see a thing. Her clouded dark eyes spoke of past he wasn't part of. Her past was encoded, and only one person could translate it.

"Savour complex then. Figures. You fell of the pedestal he created for you, and he couldn't deal with it, not with all the other stuff,"

Then she looked at him, "I never wanted him to save me,"

"Was that why you didn't fight back? Was that why you let him hurt you?"

She ignored him yet again, "I guess its fitting. I've always been alone even with people by my side. You know they all said they 'loved me'; that they'd 'never hurt me'."

"I guess we're all liars then," Raven proposed.

She shrugged, and bit her lip, "I'm not. I never promised not to hurt them. Remember, I'm a kiss of death as my _wonderful_ and _utterly devoted_ friend Trish described me as."

'Kiss of death,' he liked how that sounded, "Why did you never kiss me then? After all I was insane."

A taunt.

A threat.

He was on fire while she had always been made of it, and he couldn't stop himself. He didn't want to. She was the only piece of gold that still flashed occasionally onto his soul, and he couldn't help but wonder if those contracts Lita though he didn't see really got thrown away.

The WWE were trying to get her back.

It appeared this was a rather more substantial loss that any of the McMahon's expected her too be. It seemed that she was not transient, and she was not going away like Matt wanted her too. She'd taken a fan base and a half to a rival company, and somehow had risen from the ashes. Brighter and almost better now in their monetary obsessed eyes.

"'Was' insane? Did you get better?" she mocked, a glint in her eyes telling him exactly what she thought of his claim to sanity. "But then again, you were never bound by the morals and guidelines of the prevailing class structure were you?"

She had the talent of rendering acutely mute from time to time.

This was one of these times.

Pulling up to the entrance of the hotel she lent across, and kissed him on his cheek. She was smiling as she did so, as if in on another grand joke. Then she pulled back, and grabbed his bag from the back seat. Throwing it into his arms, she gave him a look that told him to get out of the car. The lift was over, and in her mind, so was the conversation.

"Come up to my room." He half ordered and half pleaded.

"Why?"

"Because I asked ever so nicely," he cynically replied, his tone shifting like quicksand.

She rolled her eyes in defeat, "Maybe I'll drop by later tonight."

"Good,"

"Later loser," she told him as he finally stepped out of the car, pretty satisfied with himself.

But he was also pretty disconcerted.

Somehow, she had put him ill at ease during some point in the conversation. Tail lights blurred as she sped out of the hotel drop off point, heading out into the distance. Watching until he could see her no longer, he tried to settle himself with thoughts of meticulous plans that were all running at the prescribed schedule, plans that he'd set in motion long ago, plans that he was beginning to see actualised.

But still, somehow, her face, her too old eyes, and her smoke filled voice left him ill at ease.

Somehow he knew he wouldn't sleep that night.

* * *

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I think this is one of my personalfavourites out of this entire fic so I'd be interested to know what you guys think of it. R&R.

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	9. The attendance role

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Title: The overture and the underscore. 

Written by Professional Scatterbrain.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything.

Email: ask and you shall receive.

Rating: Pg – 13

Contents warning: In the first chapter only there is violence against women, but after that there is nothing of the sort against Lita, and in some of the final chapters there is an analysis and condemnation of the actions committed against her.

Set/Spoilers: 2005 when Matt comes back to Raw.

Summary: Their friendship was torn to shreds, now they are more messed up then ever, and missing each other more than they will ever admit. Jeff is violently abusing the leniency he is treated with, while Lita is self destructing in mass-ticket-selling style.

Pairing: Jeff/Lita

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** Chp 9: The attendance role **

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It was ironic.

She still had Jeff Hardy on her speed dial.

Number one at that.

Walking through puddles of waning yellow light Raven soon found himself in the darkened bar with the rest of his roster and a fair portion of Raw's roster, drinking far more than he should. Shouldn't he have learnt this lesson by now? Shouldn't he? Yet Tommy was drinking too and around his old friend, Raven once again was spurred on and on, further and further and it unsettled him because Lita had always stopped him before he'd gone too far.

He'd gotten used to having her there.

Yet he was meant to be old enough to know better.

Know better . . .

Know better?

Everyone's eyes were on him. Unfortunately, his eyes weren't on everyone. So when Jeff swung a right hook, it connected with Raven's jaw. Hard. So hard, Raven's head spun, and he couldn't think. Pain. Anger. No one moved. In the back of his mind Raven wondered how long that would last.

Not for long.

Jericho went to pull the youngest Hardy back, but Jeff span around spitting, "Watch it fucker!"

"Hey, hold on Hardy-"

"No, you 'hold on'," Jeff mocked, his tone dripping with cynicism, "Why don't you go phone Lita and leave her another soppy love song in her message bank so she can listen to it over and over every single day,"

Bright blue eye.

Shocked blue eyes.

Jericho took a step back, "How?"

Jeff laughed cruelly, "Like that even matters Y2J."

Holding the ice from his drink up to his face, Raven smirked a little. What a scene. Every one was watching. Watching, watching, watching. Jeff Hardy was really born to be the centre of attention. Made for the lime light. Lita had said so herself many years ago, but the irony in her words only hit Raven now as he watched the Hardy Boy glare at the Ayatollah of Rock and Rolla with such potent venom in his pretty green eyes.

Green eyed boy; wasn't it horrid?

Green eyed boy; wasn't it ironic?

In hushed tones, Jericho was attempting to calm his friend. They were friends. Or they had been friends. It was hard to tell now. The lines had blurred so much. But anger only blurred them more, and with each of Jericho's lyrical words, Jeff's fury seemed to build greater. It was hard to tell now, that they had been such good friends.

Jeff went to punch Jericho, but Stacey stood in the way, holding her hands up as if in surrender.

That, if it could, seemed to infuriate him more.

"Hey Legs, move out of the way before I make you move."

"Jeff, calm down, this isn't worth it." she pleaded in that sugar sweet tone of hers.

Raven couldn't stand her.

Nor Christy Hemme who was watching with that idiotic look on her face.

Hadn't she been fired?

Or was she here to see old friends too? Raven didn't care. He never had. She was boring and plain, and nothing could raise her from that statues. Amicable girls with amicable smiles resulted in nothing really. Her happiness seemed like cellophane lies that somehow still fooled the masses, and he was disgusted by her because she stood there gaping as if it all was a terrific show; just waiting for the song and dance number to finish it off.

It was then, Raven decided that he quite wanted to hear her scream, so he got Jeff's attention, "Christy's been calling Lita too, wanting to get some extra 'training in'."

Christy was blushing now.

Embarrassed.

Raven was pleased.

Focusing his eyes on her, he watched her back closer to Maria; as if the stupid brunette could help her.

"Christy, you couldn't even do a DDT without messing it up. It took you a week to learn the basics, while it only took Angelica less than an hour."

_Angelica . . . _

Rob Van Dam was looking at him now, with such a pensive look on his handsome face. He knew. Good boy. He got the reference. So did Jericho, and so did Tommy. So did a couple of other ECW alumni. Narrowing eyes, and tensed jaws. Not happy. Not pleased. Raven laughed, and he wondered what Lita would do if she was here? Rein him back? What? But she wasn't here, and Tommy didn't want to take her place. No, the innovator of violence was more than happy to watch the scene unfold. He liked a good train wreck as much as Raven did.

"Don't call Lita that." Jericho told him coldly; he sparkling blue eyes now icy and flat.

Raven examined the blonde carefully, "Why not? It's her name. Anyway, like what you call her is so wonderful. Just for reference sake, what do you prefer, 'a soulless monster' or the usual 'bitch, whore, slut' combination?"

Raven laughed again.

Jericho's eyes were flashing. The man was angry. It filled him unevenly and naturally, with a charm that was incomprehensible to many. Raven wondered what Jericho could do. But he really shouldn't have. The Canadian didn't get into fights outside the ring anymore, nor in it. He'd become such a good boy in his time off. All he did now was croon rock songs and taunt.

Yet sick and stones hurt less than some of his words.

There was something more to the blonde than his image suggested. Time hadn't altered that. It had always been there. Hidden underneath laughing mean eyes. Masterfully concealed behind honey blonde hair and ever so witty social commentaries. Raven had always kept an eye on Jericho because of it. But he was not finished, so Raven turned his attention to the flapper attached to his arm.

"And Stacey, if you want to give Lita a 'tinkle,' next time don't fucking pretend that-"

Jeff cut him off, "Shut the hell up Birdboy."

Pushing away from the bar, Raven got into Jeff's face, "Was that phone call enlightening Jeffery? Did you learn a valuable lesson? And Jeffy, that wasn't even half of it. All the bastards are crawling out of the woodwork. It'd surprise you how many of the people that pretend to be a supporter of dear old Matt are 'checking in' with her . . ."

"You're one of them I'm guessing. Your alliance stretching beyond the ring and back to another crappy hotel room? Don't worry, she'd not that picky anymore, especially if she's letting you touch her."

Tommy punched Jeff then.

His face was darkened, and his eyes were imbued with rigid rage that caused him to punch the younger man again. Yet Jeff laughed, shaking his head a little to get the ringing out of his ears. He was still standing, but everyone around him could tell that hadn't been Tommy's original intention. They could also tell that the very moment Jeff moved, a fight would break out between more people than just Tommy and Jeff.

Raven could tell too.

So he did the only thing he wanted to, and moved closer to Jeff, whispering, "Being around her is like having Dr Jeckle wrestle Hyde. I'm sure you know what I mean."

Jeff responded as Raven knew he would, violently pushing against Raven's shoulders, sending him rocketing into a group of TNA late comers that were trying to piece together what was happening. With a look on his face that his friends had only seen once before, Jeff stalked forwards; ever action that of a predator not, of a wrestler. Which was what he had always been beneath that oh so pretty green eyed exterior.

With a hollow voice, Jeff alleged menacingly, "No, I don't know what you mean."

Dancing around a tad, Raven rolled his eyes, already looking bored, "Do you need to be enlightened S.H.I.T?"

Jeff noted the reference, and if anyone cared to notice they might have seen the look of fierce betrayal sweeping over his face. Another betrayal. It stung. So Jeff threw his beer bottle at Raven, the glass breaking into millions of shards. Strangely, everyone around them stood still, somehow knowing not to intrude. Yet Raven was not fooled into assuming that their actions were selfless. Everyone was driven by something more malicious, and everyone was especially fascinated by the murky water surrounding the flame haired highflier, and the green eyed daredevil.

Security was one their way and Jeff Jarrett smiled as he walked into his second fight for the evening.

"It's rude to gossip." Jeff told Raven in a mockingly dead sound voice, both of their eyes meeting as he spoke.

But Raven laughed at Jeff's thinly veiled threat.

This infuriated Jeff, "So, it that what you two do all day? Talk about me as if I was your own personal source of entertainment?"

"Well, she has known you for years. In fact, I would say she knows you better than anyone."

He was now openly taunting Jeff.

There was no need to read between the lines.

"It was an honest mistake you know."

Jeff laughed, and smiled an unbalanced smile, "No it wasn't."

He didn't look so nice then. He looked like a spoilt over indulged bright young thing that upper management had bight plans for. They wanted to make him a star. A superstar of massive proportions. Twinkle, twinkle. He could outshine them all if he so wanted.ButJeff didn't care. He didn't want really want any of it, yet the idea of taking something so many other people wanted appeal to him more than it should. It appealed to him in a way that Jeff somehow managed to conceal to everyone else.

Concealed?

No, no one wanted to see anything rotten in the darling child.

They wanted the good boy.

Just like they wanted the bad girl.

Because anything in between was unacceptable.

Then in a soft voice, much softer than Jeff had ever heard, Raven spoke, "She never made anything but honest mistakes."

Jeff was angry, "You don't know her like I do."

Back to the beginning.

Raven didn't mind the irony, and he couldn't help being amused, "That's the point."

"I don't think so." Jeff stated impassively.

Jeff moved towards the exit; the broken glass crunching under each step.

At this, Raven smiled a tragic smile, "I wonder what you were really thinking the night you thrashed her."

The words made Jeff holt.

It made everyone else murmur between themselves. On barbed hooks they waited. Anticipation ripe. Oh what fodder for the locker rooms this was. Fodder for three locker rooms in fact, if not more. After all, they ran in the same circles, and none of them, bar one, claimed to be saints of any variety.

"I don't need to be analysed by a rundown wrestler." He spat, with cynical green eyes.

Raven paused, and a wicked smile spread over his face, "No, I don't think you do. I rather believe you've been doing a fine job of that yourself. Is the guilt wearing you down little boy?"

"Fuck you."

"I think you'd prefer the redhead to me."

Jeff rolled his eyes mockingly, "I'm sure you could say the same. After all, what else is a piece of flesh like her good for?"

Raven was tired of running around in circles.

Jeff wasn't good or pure.

He was manipulative. Consciously or unconsciously he was manipulating the situation before him. Instead saying anything of lasting meaning, they were both chasing after their tails, going round and round, getting dizzier and dizzier with each sweep. They had visited the start of the conversation twice over, and neither time had produced any results.

Raven was tired of all the bells and whistles.

Diversions and subterfuge could only last so long.

Raven didn't like him, and he had never concealed that fact. Jeff wasn't the kind boy next door. But what an excellent façade he maintained. Oh how people loved that pretty façade of his. They wanted him so much, and with an effortless charm, he still managed to easily present himself as the type of guy that girls like Maria and Candace Michelle would brag about bagging or blowing, and the type of guy that Trish wanted like that new Prada handbag that had been featured in the latest addition of Vogue.

Yet Raven had never been convinced by pretty smiles and humbly spoken clichés.

All he saw was another train wreck.

"It was wrong you know." Raven suddenly stated, "You do know that, don't you?"

Jeff ignored the reprimand.

He was cocky and aggressive. His aggression was different to many of the wrestlers Raven knew. With Jeff he was defensively flippant, playing it all off as though he didn't give a damn about anything or anyone. That day, his shoulders were slumped, and his eyes were crinkled with something that someone gullible might describe as amusement. But Raven knew better. However, too many others were convinced, such as a couple of WWE alumni winked knowingly, as if Jeff was just humouring the other wrestler.

"You kept saying how she ruined everything."

Jeff laughed superciliously, "She did. Duh!"

Raven frowned.

Jeff's words somehow sounded childish; like a teenager speaking back. Over indulged on an endless leash, Jeff no longer broke rules, because for him, they no longer existed. Boundaries were so easily broken by a few soft guilty looks, and a hollow promise to 'never do it again'. He was in line to be the next 'real deal'. He was going to be greater than great. He was going to outdo all that came before him. He was going to raise the goddamn bar. Raven didn't doubt that man opposite him could be a member of the hall of fame. But all the talent in the world couldn't hide his inherent tendency for thoughtless destruction.

She'd always known that.

Maybe that was what dictated her role in Team Xtreme. Matt didn't see anything other than glory and gold, with the occasional sideways glance at tail. Yet Lita had seen it all, just like she still saw it all in the new Team Xtreme. She'd bandaged Raven's knuckles after his last match, not that Dawn or Tommy realised that, or that fact she'd coordinated Dawn's match in such a manner that both Tommy and Raven were always at hand just in case something went wrong . . . or someone tried to make an impact.

Lita was the most gracefully person Jeff had ever known; it was not forced, and it didn't fall away once she had left the stage.

Jeff had known her for many years, and he knew better than himself.

Raven knew that, and that was the only reason Jeff didn't pretend otherwise when the truth was spoken.

"At least she was your best friend. At least she would always be so close to you. That's what you believed." Raven began; his voice sharp and clear, ad if he was reading Jeff's mind.

Jeff's eyes were the colour of a lightless sky, and he snarled a little as he pasted a smile on his handsome face. What a charming boy he was. Raven liked the other man a little then, because the act was gone. In its place something sharp and something dying to be set alight. Jeff wanted a good fight, and Raven didn't dare cease what he had started. Instead he hammered the final nails in the coffin.

"It's what you had to believe, because, at least if she couldn't be your wife she could be your sister in law."

But Raven didn't stop.

"It was the best you could hope for. In your mind it couldn't get any better than what you had. It was almost perfect. Near perfect."

Jeff clenched his fists, and struck out.

His aim was off, and Raven effortlessly blocked the punch.

"But then it all started to come undone didn't it? She and Matt started to fall apart. Edge just happened to be there to piece her all together, and she relished the chance to piece him back together because all Matt wanted was greatness, and meanwhile for you Jeff . . . it was all slipping through your fingers. Everything that you had forced yourself to accept, everything that you had come to depend on."

In the background, Raven spotted Jericho now holding Edge back. Without Christian there to do the task of minding after his brother, Jericho seemed to seamlessly step back into the role of minding the taller blonde man. Yet that wasn't surprising to Raven. After all, Jericho's four best friends were all brothers, and one expected such behaviour after all this time of friendship.

Even if the four brothers themselves were not friends anymore.

But that wasn't the point, so Raven refocused on the volatile Hardy brother.

"Shut the hell up." Jeff swore spitefully.

But Raven didn't listen.

He continued as if Jeff had said nothing at all.

"She ruined it all for you, didn't she? That's why you beat her until she was unconscious."

Jeff didn't say a word; he just glared into Raven's jet black eyes.

"It was wrong. I don't care what your reason was; I don't give a damn about any of it. It was wrong."

"You're no angel." Jeff finally responded, laughing an empty laugh.

"I never claimed to be one. But to her, you were."

"Fuck her."

"What a Freudian remark."

"How cleaver. I except she'd give you a real good pat on the head for such a startling piece of information."

Raven ignored the younger man attempt to divert the conversation, continuing speaking as if they were alone, "You'd accepted it hadn't you? After all, it was better than nothing. It was more than a lot of people got to have. She was you're best friend, and you knew better than anyone that youwere her best friend too."

A tendril of comprehension weaving in and out of each of his words.

Lita didn't speak anymore, she screamed, and even then she didn't say anything. She just degraded herself further. If they were looking for a monster, she made herself into one for the crowd. She didn't look for forgiveness, and perhaps that was the hardest thing about her now. She just kept digging her own grave, becoming harsher and harder every moment she stood by Raven's side.

He didn't like seeing her like that.

That's why he kept speaking to a man he detested.

"You'd given up on having her love you. You'd given up on any hope of that, and of being anything more than friend's, hadn't you?"

Jeff refused to answer, his eyes fixed on another plasticine piece of tail out in the lobby of the hotel.

"But as long as she was with Matt, then she was almost yours. You got to see her whenever you wanted - Fuck, she only lived a short walk away from you. Even if she wasn't with you, it wasn't so bad because she was so close to you."

Jeff ignored him, perving at another Barbie doll girl that was more plastic than flesh and bone. With his green eyes fixed on a nameless forgettable girl, Jeff was . . . Jeff was quite suddenly so obviously bitter. He was a rebel without any cause, and he delighted in the role. He was the tortured rock star, the boy next door, the best friend, the sweet guy . . . he was everything that the stereotypes demanded, but with a vacant stare, he was when it came down to it, he wasn't anything at all.

"Are we done here?"

"No, not even close." Raven retorted, but Jeff had already turned away from the wrestler and the other members of the two different companies.

The security arrived.

"I'm leaving." Was all Jeff vituperatively stated as he began pushing his way away from the crowd.

He didn't want to deal with it anymore. Glass once again crunched under his shoes, and the sound filled the almost silent bar. In the aftermath all that Raven could see was Tommy icing his fist under the supervision of Dawn Marie, who glared rancorously at anyone that dared to look down at her. _'She'_ might have been a train wreck, but Tommy had never seen her as such. Never. Not even when she was at her worst. For he knew what she could be at her best, and so did Dawn Marie. Dawn Marie had known before everyone else, and Tommy refused to see her as a train wreck either. Raven meanwhile was merely smirking as he came to a hazardous realisation. They really did look like the new Team Xtreme standing there; a force even the green new faces instinctively avoided.

It was that epiphany that made Raven understand.

The fight may have been defused for now but that wouldn't last for long.

Yet he had so many loose ends still left to tie.

* * *

R&R - oh, and I'm upset with you guys. No one got the irony of the Beatles referance in my new fic 'The Good Samaritan'.The brownie points and the braggingrights are still unclaimed. Lets just say, in the words of myfavourite sibling. . . I'm not angry, I'm just disappionted.

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	10. Five finger discount

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Title: The overture and the underscore.

Written by Professional Scatterbrain.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything.

Email: ask and you shall receive.

Rating: Pg – 13

Contents warning: In the first chapter only there is violence against women, but after that there is nothing of the sort against Lita, and in some of the final chapters there is an analysis and condemnation of the actions committed against her.

Set/Spoilers: 2005 when Matt comes back to Raw.

Summary: Their friendship was torn to shreds, now they are more messed up then ever, and missing each other more than they will ever admit. Jeff is violently abusing the leniency he is treated with, while Lita is self destructing in mass-ticket-selling style.

Pairing: Jeff/Lita

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**Chp 10: Five finger discount.**

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At about 1pm she knocked on his door with an indignant smile on her face.

She was much too close when he opened the door to find her waiting for him. Leaning on the doorframe; her dark sunglasses reflected his face. Reflected his eyes. Reflecting it all. Sliding into his room like liquid, she winced a little. But not for long. The swelling had gone down. Slipping her sunglasses off, she folded them away and out of sight. Jumping on the bed, she then looked at him, as if it pained her a great deal to be here with him, and that he'd asked far too much of her to be here. But then it was gone, replaced by a sparkle in her wide honey eyes, and a cheerful smile.

He wanted to believe in it; in her brilliant pasted on joy.

Yet it was seemed to slip and falter as the minutes crept up on her.

"What do you want?" Raven asked settling back in the room he'd booked.

She rolled her eyes, giving him the same annoyed look he'd seen from the very first moment she figured out which hotel he was staying at. Shrugging her gilded shoulders, she refused to speak. The answer was quite obvious. She had after all promised to come see him. Promise made. Promise kept. She hadn't wanted to be here though, and both of them knew it was only moments before she fled the coop so to speak. She had never promised to stay long after all.

"What do you think I want?" she asked, turning the question around.

Stretching her limbs, she moved in such a graceful and catlike manner over to the doorframe, tried of lying on his wrinkled sheets. Something in her actions reminded him of something he didn't wish to name. It was a feeling that he was unaccustomed to, and within moments of her question leaving her mouth, Raven was uneasy. Earlier disconcertion returned, and once again he wondered what her place had been before the house of cards had fallen.

She held a dangerous loveliness inside herself.

Maybe that's why people acted like they did around her. She was intimidating in a strange way because of it. She was unaware though. Seemingly unaware. Seemingly unaware of what she carried inside herself. Seemingly . . . yet, she had always held a part of herself back. Raven couldn't help but understand why, and because of this, sometimes he thought she wasn't as seemingly unaware as he wanted her to be.

It raised his concern.

It would only take one fault to be found in the façade people had made for her in order for them to start to tear her down again. He wasn't a naïve man. That he been stolen from him, along with many other things that he had almost forgotten he once had. At least, for now she was still standing, still surviving even after the first façade of perfection had been torn down . . . but Raven feared how long she would last.

That was the danger of being as lovely as she was.

She smiled a tense smile at him.

"I think you want him-"

She cut him off; defiantly meeting his gaze, "What I want is for people to stop patronising me."

He smirked at her.

"What you want is for them to stop smirking at you." He told her bluntly, "What you want is for them to stop telling you how horrid and unforgivable you are. That's why you want to get out of this hotel, because you know only rooms away are the very people that did that to you, betraying your trust."

"I betrayed their trust," she corrected very coldly, crossing her arms, as if daring him to question her.

"Forgiveness is possible," Raven replied.

At that she stiffened. Her back straight and her head held high, defensively unfolding to her full height. Click. Whispers of understanding started filtering into her mind, sweeping around her head as if mocking how long it took her to 'get it'. Her knuckles were white as they gripped the door, but she didn't break her gaze on Raven.

"Why did you bring me here?" she asked in a strikingly calm voice.

Calm . . .

Calm before the storm.

He didn't answer.

He didn't dare too.

Slowly, she moved away from the door, pushing herself away in a motion that was too smooth, and too threatening all at once. With wide eyes, she examined him, seeing everything at once. Perhaps she knew him too well. Perhaps he didn't know her as well as he thought. Because she didn't look away, didn't back down.

"I doubt you wanted me here to tuck you in . . ." she whispered as if reading out words from a fairy tale. "So tell me Dearest Raven why did you bring me here?"

She was crooning to him now, in a hypnotising voice. Large honey eyes glazed at him almost endearingly, and he couldn't seem to look away. Suddenly, Raven realised for the first time just why she treated Jeff in the way she did. He was the only one she loved, and anyone else was . . . not expendable but less valuable compared to him, and Raven had just led her into a trap that she'd finally recognised it for what it was.

Honey eyes.

Green eyes.

Wasn't it ironic?

He suddenly felt as though he had made a wrong choice. He couldn't pin point it, but he could feel it as her dark eyes meet his. Was it noble in some unknown way? He didn't know. He didn't quite remember. Regret was a strange thing, and he felt it under his skin. It was pronounced, and he wondered if this was a final opportunity to obtain something before his last chance had slipped away. Whatever it was, it didn't disconcert him like her eyes did. It only made him want to step away from her as she advanced on him.

"Don't be shy," she told him, "Tell me, why did you bring me here tonight?"

Blinking, her long eyelashes flickered, and she fell back and forth into and out of shadows. Her sharp cheekbones matched the boy who'd broken beer bottles only hours before, and Raven couldn't pull his eyes away from her. Was this one of Jeff's games? Raven didn't think it was. He'd only seen parlour tricks and bubblegum bubbles from the reckless wrestler. But he was quite acutely certain that if it was, only the youngest Hardy boy would be in condition to evenly match the flame haired siren before him.

Maybe that was the problem.

Giving up on any response, she suddenly turned, moving to leave.

Then he spoke.

"Don't pretend to be blind. No longer can you play the part of that mouse."

Turning, her eyes were furious, and she glared at him, "What is it to you anyway? It's not like you to care."

Raven shrugged, "Maybe you're my friend."

She laughed, eyes gleaming in the light, "You're not one for the F word Poe."

He didn't respond.

"Just tell me why. I deserve to know."

"Good things come to those who wait." He responded using a cliché that told her nothing knowing it came from him.

It seemed as though all noise was muted, and it was only them. As it over took them the mean, threatening creature that had been advancing on Raven fled, leaving only the Lita he knew. In his eyes, she looked lovely and strong, independent and wise. The electric look of defiance which had over taken her, ebbed and her shoulders sagged, giving in until it was just the two of them evenly match each others gaze.

"Please," she exclaimed, closing her eyes for a moment as if too tired to care anymore.

He was tired too.

But he still cared.

He didn't know why, but he knew he did.

Maybe he always had.

"You two were always meant for each other. I don't know why but everyone liked to think otherwise, telling you how he saw you as his 'sister' or 'friend', and you believed it. You don't speak to your family, and you haven't believed in God since you were a child forced into going to Sunday School, and he's the only person in this world you've ever truly cared about."

She didn't like that he spoke as if he knew her inside out, and she didn't like how shockingly truthful his words were. Biting her lip, she looked away, trying to ignore his haunting voice, but she failed. She could have held her hands up to her ears, but his voice wouldn't have been blocked. Each of his words, carefully picked slide and filtered through each barrier, and she couldn't stop herself from hanging off each single one of them.

Flight and fight instincts battled within her.

Raven noticed.

But he didn't smirk.

He didn't want to.

"He's the only person you've ever cared about, and he's the only person people tell you you're not good enough for. All you see when you look at him is life, and . . ."

Raven trailed off and swore a little, making her jump.

"Grow up. You and him are the only matching pair in this fucked up world and all you ever seemed to do now is hurt each other and pretend not to care that you're alone and that he's the only thing you have going for you,"

"Fuck you." Lita cursed, angry now at how simple he was making it all sound. "Lies and lies. You're asking for a fairy tale when it's you that's got to grow up. Just grow up and stop trying to make Jeff and me better when you're the one that's begging for someone to come and kiss you better."

Her words were harsh, and she looked at him coldly, and without any visible emotion. She was detached, and suddenly the tables had turned. Why had he done all this? Duty of care? Some kindness residing in the bottom of his heart? Love? He didn't know anymore, all he knew was she was watching him with huge honey eyes and ruby lips, and she was the only person that came close to being his friend anymore.

"I just want you to be-"

"Happy?" she interrupted, "Ask yourself why you want that. Ask yourself why you decided to betray my loyalty by going to him . . ."

Her voice broke them, and she placed her hand on the doorknob ready to exit the stage.

"You were all I had," she finally whispered.

Her words broke him.

They shattered him into a million pieces just like she'd inadvertently shattered Jeff all those months ago.

"Wait!" he tried to call but she had already left the room, and he could hear her footsteps running down the hall.

Then he sunk down in his bed, and tried to block everything out.

Because now it seemed he was haunted by her too.

After a moment he opened his eyes.

Something was wrong.

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Sorry about the wait, I had a huge policing essay due, and there was a slight issue of someone deciding to take part of this fic and pass it off as their own. Stealing lines that I wrote is not flattery as someone, who knows who they are, tried to claim. Anyway, R&R please.

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	11. Fight Night

* * *

Title: The overture and the underscore. 

Written by Professional Scatterbrain.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything.

Email: ask and you shall receive.

Rating: First chapter is R, but everything else is Pg – 13

Contents warning: In the first chapter only there is violence against women, but after that there is nothing of the sort against Lita, and in some of the final chapters there is an analysis and condemnation of the actions committed against her.

Set/Spoilers: 2005 when Matt comes back to Raw.

Summary: Their friendship was torn to shreds, now they are more messed up then ever, and missing each other more than they will ever admit. Jeff is violently abusing the leniency he is treated with, while Lita is self destructing in mass-ticket-selling style.

Primary Pairing: Jeff/Lita

Secondary Pairing: Dawn Marie/Tommy Dreamer

* * *

**Chp 11: Fight Night. **

* * *

Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

He felt it in his bones.

Like a brush of danger taunting him for not being more cautious.

Slowly, with growing dread he reached down to the pocket of his jacket. His hand was sweating, but he made himself search his jacket, then his jean pockets, then his wallet, as if trying to ignore what he already knew. It was gone. Gone. The piece of paper with 'his' hotel details, the piece of paper he had purposefully hid from her, the one that was certainly now in her possession.

He knew it was.

He just knew.

The feeling skittered around him, under his breath and into his veins as it permeated all through his very being. She had it. She knew where 'he' was. There was no doubt. No second guessing what he felt. Raven knew, and . . . he didn't need to guess what she was going to do with that small piece of paper folded three times over.

He had seen the look in her eyes.

He would never forget that look.

It would haunt him, just like it haunted Jeff. Heart shattering hazel eyes. They were burned so sharply into his mind. Glittering eyes that broke him without even knowing it. The detail of it defined her, the image of her crimson lips, and pale skin under the hotel lights, kept flashing before his eyes. It wasn't taunting him, but . . . he knew it would never leave.

Like a moth drawn towards the flame.

In more ways than one.

Room 246

Two floors above his room.

Two floors above the TNA roster was the WWE roster.

Two floors separating the hostile rosters.

It was Jeff's room.

Raven leapt in to action. He could feel it nearing. Something ominous, something menacing . . . as if teasing him, as if laughing at him. Everything was crashing down. Because Raven knew Lita and he knew Jeff. He knew what was going to happen. He couldn't let it happen. No. They'd destroy each other, and Lita was already half gone as it was and if . . . If Jeff didn't break her like he was already broken, then the WWE roster would.

Because there was hardly anything left holding her together anymore.

And all that defined Jeff anymore was his acute and cultivated talent for destruction.

Thumping his fists on the door next to his, Raven did everything in his power to rouse the party inhabiting the hotel room. Shouting and yelling, he swore and cursed. He filled the air with his voice until he had no air left in himself. He spoke until he was black and blue and almost folded over. However he didn't stop. He didn't dare stop. He couldn't. It was late, and he knew that the occupations of the room would be asleep. But not for long. Raven could hear the ambling footsteps of just the man Raven was seeking stumble across the floor reaching the door. He just hoped they weren't going to be too late.

"What man! Fuck, its 2am in the God Damn morning!" Tommy Dreamer cursed, abet slightly hushed due to the presence of his wife slumbering on back inside the room despite the interruption.

Then Tommy felt silent.

Raven couldn't speak, but he didn't have too.

Tommy knew, the look of realisation in his eyes was there the very second he meet his friend's eyes.

Maybe Tommy had expected it long before Raven had.

A dark horse hiding in the wings letting the action play out.

Out of the four of them, he'd meet Lita first. He's been the second opinion that helped her get her shot at ECW, and he'd been the mentor she'd never admitted to having. He'd introduced her to Dawn Marie; accommodating the two women's friendship even when they fought furiously with each other over various meaningless and meaningful matters. He'd also been the driving force into getting her signature on the dotted line TNA had presented her with.

It seemed so long ago.

Raven remembered that he didn't even recognise her when she arrived late to her first show. She was two minutes late, and she rushed in. Still jet lagged, she carried a heavy and battered duffle bag. She hadn't even dropped it off at the hotel. No, she'd come straight from the airport and the first thing she did when he spoke to her was steal his cup of coffee and then after a gulp tell him he shouldn't lace his drinks.

She told him it wasn't polite.

He had told her something that wasn't polite in reply.

She drunk the rest of his coffee in response, then she evaporated into thin air leaving only a faint aftertaste in her wake. But soon that changed. Soon she left more than a faint aftertaste. She left broken bones, and shattered teeth, and they hated her viciously for it. Because girls like her weren't meant to do those things. They were meant to whine and get down on their knees and beg.

She hated kneeling down for them.

She hated kneeling down for anyone.

He had known that back when they were in ECW and Lita was just some redheaded girl that hung around Dawn. Somehow, it had felt worst than he knew he should have. Her company seemed to demand more from him, and as much as he knew it would have been better to dismiss it, he couldn't. He hadn't been able too.

Dawn had noticed.

She had been so pleased when he and Lita started watching each others backs. Her best friend was safe, and she was finally back somewhere where Tommy and Dawn could at least keep an eye on her again. That had been the plan. It had been the idea, the goal in getting her onto the TNA roster. Tommy had done this because . . .

He had expected it, expected her.

He expected it because he knew her.

And that was why Raven came to him over everyone else.

"It's Lita." Raven finally told him in a rush.

He needn't have said a single word.

The other man was already backing into the room and shoved him feet into a pair of boots. Pulling on an old shirt and jumper over his battered form. Dawn was still sleeping, but it probably wouldn't last for long. She had never been fearless in the manner Lita had been, but the brunette knew that on a good day, she could run a close second. As her bleary brown eyes opened, Tommy began to relay the orders Raven was sure the other man had spent years preparing.

"Get some others to help. We'll need the numbers tonight."

It was always about the numbers in cases like these.

Numbers not figures. There was no need for figure heads, though they were sure to turn up anyway. The two men thumped on door, and woke sleepy wrestlers, gathering all they could. Not all cared about Lita, but their willingness to get into a fist fight with the WWE 'superstars' as they so cynically called them more than made up for it.

Tommy woke everyone he could, more than Raven did. Tommy led the procession, choosing which doors to knock on, and which to leave alone. Yet even though he was selective, soon more the half was roster followed him down the hall. They emerged out of there rooms like school children from their books. Excitement and impatience filled the air, and as more tired eyed men and women filled the hallway, it felt like Raven was breathing in static electricity instead of air.

It was taking too long.

Lita was probably already there, and . . .

"We need to hurry,"

"No, we need to get more help,"

Tommy easily and effortlessly led the parade. Yet he's leadership was shaky and constantly challenged. Raven knew he didn't help the matter. He wanted to move faster, and so did many others. They had anticipated a fight month ago. From the very first moment TNA announced they'd be coming face to face with WWE, it had been all the roster had thought about. It had been all consuming, and it had been infectious. The women, Gail Kim and her flock were those that had been pulled along into the heady excitement; not really looking for a fight, but willing to participate.

They had almost started one, when Tommy had woken Chris Jericho.

The blonde, with his too viciously blue eyes blinking in the harsh light had been an easy target. He wasn't one of 'them' anymore, but he was pretty much as good as Vince when TNA roster set their hungry eyes on him. It didn't matter that Jericho was friends with every forth person standing outside his door. It didn't matter at all because everyone was hyped up, and everyone was pushing everyone else too act on the first impulse that raced through their minds.

Yet Tommy's voice was strong, and clear; the voice of reason amidst the rush of adrenalin.

"Get up, we need your help."

His words sent ripple of disapproval through the crowd, yet without even facing them, the older wrestler kept them at bay. His broad shoulders sending shadows over Gail's rail like form, and holding her in her place along with Raven who just wanted to bolt. He was the only alpha present, and it somehow strangely became clear to just why he and Raven never managed to settle which one was he better out of the two.

But Jericho was tired, and slow on the uptake.

"What the hell is going on Dreamer? Do you know what time is it?" he swore.

In the same tone, Tommy spoke again, but only to clarify his first statement, "Get dressed Jericho. We need your help. Lita and Hardy are about to have their fucking heart to heart. I don't want to let nature play its course since as you can well remember, last time they spoke, Jeff knocked her unconscious."

"Jeff won't –"

"Yes he will. You saw him tonight, and Li's not going to take this one lying down. So get dressed now."

"You go on ahead, I'll catch up."

"No, we'll need you the moment WWE comes out to play."

"This isn't about the 'them/us' divide."

"Like hell it isn't." Tommy swore, "Just hurry up. She's probably already up there now."

Pack mentality had taken over.

They were looking for a fight.

And there would be a fight.

A fight, above all things, was something that could be counted on. Although it had started with Lita and Jeff, things always ended up . . . well, it was TNA against WWE, and that always lead to a fight. Always. Everything always came down to that. It was a base instinct, but . . . a fight was something that could always be counted upon, because in the end, they all looked for any reason to have one.

Especially as the trooped upstairs.

Jericho was needed. Raven understood that, and he understood why. Jericho was more vital than numbers and brute force Tommy had gathered because of the simple reason he still cared about Lita. Perhaps he was another Dreamer. Another alpha that Raven had never had the clarity to see until now. Tommy obviously trusted the man, and although Raven had trouble seeing anything redeeming in the blonde man, he trusted Tommy's judgment.

It was not the first time he had done so.

Because Raven trusted Tommy, and Raven knew that he needed too tonight.

There was no room not too.

* * *

I hope you enjoyed this chapter even though neither Jeff or Lita played a direct part in it. In the next chapter I'll make it up to you guys. Cross my heart.

Anyway, thank's for taking the time to read this chapter, I hope you also (hint, hint) take the time to review it.

* * *


	12. Promise Kept

* * *

Title: The overture and the underscore. 

Written by Professional Scatterbrain.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything.

Email: ask and you shall receive.

Rating: First chapter is R, but everything else is Pg – 13

Contents warning: In the first chapter only there is violence against women, but after that there is nothing of the sort against Lita, and in some of the final chapters there is an analysis and condemnation of the actions committed against her.

Set/Spoilers: 2005 when Matt comes back to Raw.

Summary: Their friendship was torn to shreds, now they are more messed up then ever, and missing each other more than they will ever admit. Jeff is violently abusing the leniency he is treated with, while Lita is self destructing in mass-ticket-selling style.

Pairing: Jeff/Lita

* * *

**Chp12: Promise Kept. **

* * *

One floor above them, a prim looking redhead examined the piece of paper in her hands as she walked swiftly down the hall. The numbers were smudged and the paper was flimsy as if it had been folded and refolded several times over. It shook a little in her hands. Black ink stained her fingers, and although she no longer needed the directions she held it out before her as a reminder. 

Room 246.

She already had the number memorised.

246.

Even numbers. Perfect numbers for a number game. The thought was stale, and it appeared out of the recesses of her mind. It filled her head strangely, and instead of a plan of action all she had racing around the back of her mind was all those maths classes she had been forced into attending. She remembered her teacher, and how she used to sit in the middle row in between a boyfriend she didn't particularly like, and a couple of girls that always convinced her it was a good idea to paint her nails candy floss pink even though it clashed with her hair.

As she remembered it all, she felt ill.

Illuminated by harsh yellow lights, she trailed one hand along the wall. Under her fingertips, she calmly counted the room numbers, steadily drawing nearing. The raised brass numbers felt foreign to the touch, and she made herself pull away. Smartly, her black boots shone in the light, and the soft carpet made her sound like a ghost as she moved.

Locked away, behind each door, she could hear the sounds of the WWE roster.

The soft breathing, the groans, the bed springs creaking. Under a couple of doors she spotted lights, and heard the reoccurring pounding of a headboard hitting the hotel wall. At door number 235 she heard Edge mumble in his sleep, and at door number 237 she heard Chavo Gurrero snore loudly. The sounds were familiar, but they felt out of place.

She was used to the sound of Dawn whispering to Tommy in the dark, and Raven's breathing.

But she forced the thoughts from her mind, and left her three team mates two levels under her feet.

When she reached the door, she pushed her hair over her shoulder, and forced her face into an even, sweet smile that was almost convincing. Standing very straight, with her spine uncurled to its fullest height, she stood primly. Her teeth, white and sharp flashed in the light. Her lips, stained blood red emphasised the effect and she pushed her shoulders back.

Then she knocked at the door politely, but when that didn't work she knocked again, louder.

"Hold on, hold on," came a tired sounding voice, and the flick of a light switch, then the door opened.

Lita managed a bright smile, "Hello Shawn. I need to talk to Jeff please."

Shawn Michael's only gaped at her, not sure quite what was happening, "Lita? What are you doing here?"

"Oh, that? TNA likes to occasionally make the WWE aware of their existence. Thus I'm staying at the same hotel. What a coincidence!"

Her voice was bright to match her smile, but both were fake even though they glittered with a brilliance that seemed far too real. With expertise gained from time with Raven, she swiftly grabbed the 'Show Stopper's' shoulders, and flung him out of the doorway and into the hall. He landed with a thump, shocked and still not fully lucid. He seemed to be confused and his eyes blinked slowly. His face showed his age in a way he didn't want her to see, but before he could move, she nodded politely at him, and then slammed the door shut, locking it behind her.

Stalking into the room, she tried to stop trembling.

She failed at that too.

"Wake up," she announced coldly, unable to conceal the fury in her voice.

All at once the thoughts of maths class and a slumbering roster fled from her mind. With it, all her forcible compartmentalised thoughts rushed back, flooding her until she felt like she was drowning in them. Struggling to breathe she clenched her hands into fists, and stalked forward.

How dare they go behind her back to conspire against her?

How dare Raven go to Jeff and tell him everything! All her mistakes, all her humiliations, everything that she didn't want anyone else in the world to know. How dare he? What gave him the right? Was this her punishment? If so she was tired, and she couldn't . . .

She was tired and she wanted it to stop.

Now.

Suddenly, in a snap of uncontrolled anger, she picked up the book on Shawn's bedside table and threw it at the sleeping form of Jeff Hardy. She felt like a teenager again after being told her parents were breaking up. She felt like a girl being told she had to leave home at eighteen because her mother's new boyfriend didn't like her. She felt like a girl being pushed around by her older brother for shits and giggles.

She loathed it.

So she threw another book, this time hitting him on his exposed shoulder.

"What in the hell?"

His voice was bleary and sleep filled, but his eyes hardened rapidly as he recognised her.

Things had not changed. It was too obvious. The air was charged and bit at their throats as they breathed it in. It felt like breathing in swords, and she felt like choking as she looked at him. They were made up of wild eyes, dark eyes, dangerous eyes, and blank eyes. A dizzying mix that left them confused and unsteady. Everything felt static and unbalanced.

It didn't feel anything like the reunion that fans would have paid cold hard cash to see.

Pacing around the room she took him in, watching him critically before speaking, "So I bet it was fun wasn't it Jeffery?"

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he swore, ignoring her question as he moved towards her.

He moved like a leopard. His limbs were long, and coordinated like mercury as he attempted to circle her. He was taller than her, stronger, and just as agile, maybe even more so. But then again her knee and his past drug addiction pretty much evened out the field. Yet he was almost intimidating. If not for the fact fury stained her vision she might have backed away like she should have if she was anyone else. With one arm, he snapped out, trying to pin her down.

"Don't'." She swerved out of his grasp, then continued as if nothing happened, "Laughing away at me with Raven. You know, because I'm so low and beneath you and all your little league of friends."

She was almost hysterical, and Jeff soon followed, "I don't know what you're talking about. Raven only told me sob story after sob story of how messed up you were. Not exactly hilarious."

He paused waiting to strike.

"You really are pitiful aren't you?"

For some reason he couldn't stop after that. He started really swearing at her, really attacking her. He couldn't stop, couldn't turn off the floor of insults, and they all hit home, because he knew her better than anyone. He was the only one that really knew her . . . and he used it to his advantage.

He wanted to hurt her, and he could, and it was easy. It was easy because everything he said was merely the fodder of the nightmares he knew she had. He knew her inside out and back to front, and not once as he spoke viciously did he remember that she knew him the same way. He was destructive as he slide closer and closer to her, his eyes jet black and his smile callous.

"Don't blame Raven though." He joked cruelly, "You were always the type that needed someone to look after you. Useless on your own and a curse when with someone, just ask my brother. Or his ex best friend."

She screamed in anger, "You haven't changed!"

"Like you have either! Still making the rounds of the TNA locker room? Lots of new faces and old ones too. Must be nice catching up, after all Raven seems pretty attached to you,"

"You don't know anything –"

This made Jeff laugh cruelly, "Actually, thanks to your dearest friend Raven I know everything."

Outside the door Raven and the others finally arrived. Tommy's lead was now shifting under his finger tips, and Raven seized it, breaking out in front to take control. But as soon as he had it, he lost it. Rhino and Monty Brown rallied their troops, and only Tommy's sharp words keep the men from breaking down every door in sight.

Outside room number 246, Shawn was trying to get in, but he was failing.

His long nimble form slamming uselessly against the locked door. The voices of the two people inside were rising, and a couple of the guys winched as Lita directed a particularly bitting comment towards Jeff. Her voice was shrill and brutal, while Jeff was recklessly calculated. All he wanted to do was hurt her. As his words became more horrid, hers became sharper. She swore violently, once again causing the bystanders outside to winch, following the comment up with the sound of glass breaking. That was when Raven and Tommy became increasingly worried.

"We need to stop this." Tommy order, "Open that door."

"It's locked," Shawn replied with great hostility.

"Then break it down," Tommy retorted in exactly the same tone.

But the situation soon escalated as Raven had know it would. Dawn Marie's appearance in the crowd distracted Tommy, and instead of leading the crowd, he and Raven protectively stood either side of the brunette. They were the new Team Xtreme, and the sight angered people, especially those on the WWE roster.

But that was only one element that incited the crowd's anger.

Because as more the fight grew more intense people were waking and leaving their rooms to watch the show outside the hotel room, or listen to the one inside the hotel room. Soon too many people coloured the hallway with their sleep filled eyes antagonistic and hostile. Jericho although considered one of 'them' by TNA, was considered weak by the WWE roster. As an orator he failed for the first time in his memory.

The two companies faced off, and words were exchanged.

Many words. Most of then were fighting ones. All the while Lita and Jeff's argument became more revealing. Painfully so. Secrets and blood oaths were broken and abused. With the additions of Matt and Edge joining the crowd of onlookers, and it seemed that the second fight was only moments away from being started.

The two men were separated, but only by a couple of wrestlers that were holding them apart. Their knuckles cracked, and every word that echoed off the walls and out of room 246 infuriated the two, unpicking the stitches that had kept them acting civil towards each other. Their egos crashes as Jeff and Lita fought on; and once again the central fight became Matt and Edge's. Like show ponies prancing around, they were spiteful and malicious as their nature depicted what the final act between them would be.

Then Lita screamed a really bone chilling scream.

It was like a red flag waved in the face of the bulls.

Because at that very moment, the fight outside the hotel room 246 officially broke out.

* * *

R&R.

* * *


	13. Don’t believe the Truth Lies are morefun

* * *

Title: The overture and the underscore.

Written by Professional Scatterbrain.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything.

Email: ask and you shall receive.

Rating: First chapter is R, but everything else is Pg – 13

Contents warning: In the first chapter only there is violence against women, but after that there is nothing of the sort against Lita, and in some of the final chapters there is an analysis and condemnation of the actions committed against her.

Set/Spoilers: 2005 when Matt comes back to Raw.

Summary: Their friendship was torn to shreds, now they are more messed up then ever, and missing each other more than they will ever admit. Jeff is violently abusing the leniency he is treated with, while Lita is self destructing in mass-ticket-selling style.

Pairing: Jeff/Lita

* * *

**Chp13: Don't believe the Truth, Lies are so much more fun.**

**

* * *

**

All he saw was her.

He wanted to forget her.

But that was impossible.

How could he? Even now, with Lita standing before him his mind swam in her presence. Like a fish returning to water. Yet in the back of his mind, blood stained images played out. The match she won that night. The match she won only hours ago. He felt like he'd watched it so many times over. In every hotel, every plane, every dank bar. But he'd watched so many of her matches over the months, grasping hold of every image he could find. They all bleed together, seamlessly blurring until he was left unable to tell where one ended and another began.

Grasping at straws.

Even when he closed his eyes, her image refused to fade.

She screamed.

She was on the verge of tears, and she gulped air down her throat, trying to calm herself.

But it didn't work.

Jeff was doing the same.

Her new theme music had been haunting him for months now.

It mocked him.

However much he tried, he couldn't block it from ringing in his ears, couldn't stop himself from memorising every word. It had filled the arena earlier that night. In the nose bleed section he had sat, and he had known every single word. If he wished he could have sung along like the people sitting around him. He didn't want to know every word. He didn't want to hear it over and over, like a broken record looping over and over in his head. He wanted to forget. He wanted so badly to forget her. But he couldn't.

Months and months.

Dreams upon dreams.

Her haunting eyes.

Her blood under his nails.

His finger prints bruised onto her skin.

He didn't know why, but he couldn't seem stop himself. Still. So much yet so little time had passed him by and his behaviour hadn't changed at all. He didn't even try to stop himself any longer. Like a bad habit, he kept tunning in to watch her partake in fighting a roster he used to be friends with, watching her battle at different pay – per –views. Once, he'd been part of those very pay – per – view.

But it didn't feel like it.

Now, his name was owned by Vince, and it all seemed so long ago that it was disconnected. He couldn't remember what it felt like to walk out before a crowd of people that had bought those tickets instead of ones for WWE pay – per – views. His 'name' was owned by someone else, and hers so obviously wasn't, and he hated her for that because that had never meant to be how it was.

Raven had made the Hardy's gun sign at the camera that night.

He made the Hardy's gun sign nearly every night.

He then had pointed to the stands where Lita had been poised on the safety rails.

Once again, he mouthed the words of her music tauntingly, and winked at her. Jeff had looked away at that moment. He always looked away at that moment. Always. He liked to pretend he didn't know why. But he did. He did, he couldn't pretend. Closing his eyes ever so tightly couldn't change anything at all and when his gaze returned, he had seen the exact moment she made her move.

Lita had made the same sign in response.

Although she had done so many times before, Jeff flinched.

Still.

Everyone knew what they were doing. How could they not? Matt raved about it; still furious and petty, his eyes hard each time it was mentioned. And of course it was mentioned regularly. It was not a topic of polite conversation, but locker rooms had always been more akin to gutters than polite society. But she had always known that better than he did. Or had he known better? Jeff couldn't remember and couldn't care, because he was unable to tear the images of her and Raven making a spectacle that night out of his head.

And it was a spectacle.

There was no doubt about that either.

Such arrogance had glittered in Raven's eyes when he had winked into the camera lenses. Something about his nonchalant stance had seemed to almost insight violence. As if he saw the chaos surrounding him as merely a quant joke. Even as his fallen opponent had started crawling towards the ropes brokenly Raven had just smirked. His languid form too perfectly at ease in the vicious environment. Jeff felt nauseous just watching.

She jumped off the railing with such easy grace.

Such lethal grace.

Jeff hadn't been able to stop watching. He watched as she landed in the ring that night. She didn't land well. For a brief unforgivable second he had worried about her knee. Raven had not moved to steady her. Monty Brown had taken advantage of it, like Jeff knew the other man would. She had been knocked back into the turnbuckles. Years ago, Jeff would have eviscerated any man that handled her in such a fashion.

But he hadn't been down in the ring with her.

Raven was.

Yet without his help, she slipped out of his grasp when the Alpha male moved in for the kill. Skilfully she skipped in and out of the ropes before knocking the man down with a kick to the back of his knees. She smirked at him, but didn't stop to gloat. She didn't used to do either of those things. At least not without a real reason, and there was none that night, nor any other night. Fights were no longer about anything other than fighting. She wasn't sweet, and she wasn't kind anymore.

He had done that; he had left her in the state.

He had watched her and Raven fight silently that night. Even now, hours later, he was numb. For some messed up reason all he could do was gape. He knew he shouldn't though. So he had told himself over and over again that he had only been watching it because he'd already bought the tickets. Even though he hadn't. Raven had. Jeff hated Raven. Really hated the other man, and as much as he told himself that he didn't care, and that he was only going to keep watching the match for a moment longer before leaving . . . he couldn't. He couldn't. All he could do was watch her, and he felt like the broken record; all he did was watch and watch her.

You were the only right thing . . .

The only right thing . . .

She screamed.

It pieced the air, and unwittingly Jeff unwittingly backed away, sharply brought out of his memories. With one hand she grabbed another glass, one of the four remaining of the set and threw it against the wall. He hollowly laughed at her. The sound of his laughter even caught him by surprise, and it took more than a second for Jeff to recognise it as his own. But in those seconds, her anger intensified. How dare he? So she threw another one and another. This time he didn't laugh. Some of the shards rebounded off the wall and pieced his flesh.

"You bastard! You want me to apologise?"

From outside the hotel door the voices of various members of the Raw and TNA roster could be heard, all of them shouting and screaming, crying out and begging for the door to be opened. Their voices mixed into a mess of noise blurring until no single word could be picked from another. Yet they were not even heard and the two swore and insulted each other.

Dawn Marie was frightened.

Tommy was trying to push her out of the way, but she refused to be swept aside to safety. Her fists pounded on the door, yelling her best friend's name. Dawn knew that Tommy and Raven shared her concern, and although she wanted to understand, she couldn't, because Lita was her best friend. Dawn couldn't just stand by. Not again. Raven grabbed hold of her, pulling her away. But she slipped out of his hold in order to pour her nails against the door. Yet the moment she did, Victoria grabbed her hair and yanked her to the ground, stomping on her ribs. Crying out, Dawn fought back. Fighting viciously like a stray cat she scratched and bit her past opponent.

Yet before either could do any damage Tommy was there.

Much like he had always been. His hand was firm and welcomed as he redirected the fight. Victoria, in the state she was in didn't care in the slightest that Dawn was gone and that in the brunettes place was Gail Kim. The two former Women Champions,' were both looking for a fight and the found one as Dawn was wrenched away from the two nemesis. However as soon as that fight had started it was ended, with Gail forgoing Victoria for Maria. Making short work of the dim witted woman who had poached her pervious job, Gail moved onto Ashley and Christy. Eagerly, Gail's followers joined in.

Back inside room 246, Lita was slipping into hysteria, and so was Jeff.

"Don't say that!"

"I can say anything I want to Li,"

"Don't call me that!" she snapped, her voice full of fire and fury.

"It's your name isn't it?"

"Only my friends get to call me that – "

Interrupting her, he snarled, "I thought only people you screwed could call you that, but I guess those two categories overlap now Angelica."

He smirked as he looked at her, but as he did he suddenly felt insipid against her presence. The image of her face, pale and furious matched so tediously with the one he had seen that night. The one that had been televised with him sitting in the audience. The match he wished he had never seen just like the rest of them. She had hog tied her opponent with Raven's belt that night. Then she had pressed her heel down on her opponent's shoulder as the referee counted 'one, two, three'. Three second tan indeed. But it hadn't been a win at all. It wasn't about the win to Raven; it was about how he won. It had always been about that, even from the start. No one could deny Raven's instincts. Drugs couldn't hide it either. But Raven didn't hide. That had been proven to Jeff, as Raven had slammed his opponent down in the middle of the ring with a flourish of brutality.

Seething she had looked like she was on fire.

Her blood red hair flew around her face as she moved, and her eyes where like coal inside a furnace. Her limbs moved like quick silver, and not even AJ Styles himself could have landed a single hit on her right at that moment. Jeff tried to keep up, but as every second passed, his became increasingly aware of every single reason that had lead to every single one of his many failures.

Sink or swim.

He was sinking.

She was swimming.

He had failed.

But that didn't stop him from fighting a losing battle.

"You were the one that fucked everything up Lita! Don't act like the victim here you-"

"Bitch?" She filled in, "Wasn't that what you were going to say? After all you called me that when you belted me around."

"I say or call you anything I want. You're nothing. You don't mean anything anymore." He swore violently, trying to stop the memories of that night from assaulting him. "You don't control me!"

Who did he think he was?

Jeff ducked the bible that followed the phone, and tried to move towards her, but she backed away, pressing her back against the large glass windows. Then she moved to him, and pushed his shoulders, making him stumble back. He said horrid things to her, and her pale face registered each and every hit that left his mouth. He pushed all her buttons yet . . . every word that left his mouth was foreign and said without any of the apathy he wished he could hold inside himself.

Lies and lies, insults and barbs left his mouth.

He was hurting her.

And he was . . . what?

He didn't know anymore.

"I know you're sorry, just say the words, it'll make you feel better" he lectured sarcastically her as he tore the last remaining glass out of Lita's hand.

Throwing herself backwards, she ripped herself out of his grip as if he had burned her. Furiously she moved away from him as quickly as she could. His touch so familiar yet so unfamiliar made her want to . . . she didn't know anymore. She didn't even know why she was here. The reason escaped her as she reeling backwards away from him. It . . . it had not used to be like this. But this was how things were now. It was as simple as that. Raven's words and wishes, no matter how sickenly out of character couldn't alter that for either her or Jeff.

What gave him the right to order her to apologise him?

As if he was being oh so generous and righteous. Like he was the pure and prefect Lamb of God while she was the dirty, dirty Mary Magdalene. He didn't get to say anything. He had no right to act like he was the bigger person. No right whatsoever. Lita wanted to scream until she was horse, over and over again, and again. Green eyes were empty, and she didn't see anything at all looking back at her except a reflection of her ashen face.

How could he go from calling her a bitch to saying he wanted to forgave her?

Moments ago he was calling her every name under the sun, using language that she had never seen him use before. He couldn't just turn it around on her like that. She threw the hotel phone book at him. He ducked it, but not perfectly, and it connected with the shoulder she had already injured earlier. Then as he ducked and dodged without the absolute grace of his youth, she understood why.

It was a game of cat and mouse now.

Closer and closer he approached.

Closer and closer . . .

"I don't forgive you. I'll never forgive you."

"That's alright." He told her, ignoring the dangerous expression that malevolently flashed within the depths of her honey coloured eyes, "I don't care either way what you feel towards me."

This made her laugh a terrible careless laugh, "I don't feel anything towards you Jeff, and I certainly don't need your forgiveness. I don't need you Jeff, I never have."

"Then leave, go back to Raven's bed and unclench your scarred up knees to him."

Maliciously, she smiled mockingly at him, "You don't control me."

His words earlier words sounded so shatteringly different coming from her mouth, and as they did the power shifted, and they both felt it. She smiled a tragically pitiless smile and as she did he understood everything, every question, every answer, every mystery in that callous second. A second later it was lost on him, and the only thing he knew for sure was that he was broken. He was so utterly broken. It had been so long, and still even now, the all the King's horses and all the King's men hadn't put a single piece of him back together again.

Trish was yelling now, Jeff could identify her voice rising above the rest.

With Trish he could say the first to his head and it always worked. It worked so well that he didn't have to bother to say another single thing. Outside the room her voice was dull though and he ignored it. He ignored it all. All he saw was Lita. She was furious and frightening. They matched each other. He was furious and frightening too. They both moved like quick silver, their eyes icy and dizzingly dangerous. Shadows flooded the room, the street lights outside the hotel giving his sharp bone structure a marble like quality that was too reminiscing of classical Greek sculpture for such a vile eyed individual.

"They have a place in hell for people like you." He told her cruelly.

Her eyes sparkled blackly, unaffected, "I'll see you there comrade."

Lean hard planes of muscle and pale flesh had made him into something Trish now wanted again, but Lita had made into something else. Something that caused too many bridges to be burnt, that caused too many broken bones, and millions despicable selfless, selfish actions. It was Lita, not Trish that Jeff couldn't get out of his mind. In the end, when it came down to it, he didn't know Trish with her blonde hair, blue eyes and bubble gum pink lips. He just knew how to manipulate her. Something he did with ease.

That knowledge troubled him.

He hated Lita for that.

She was true. The only thing that was true. He knew her inside out and back to front. She had thrown away the keys, but he still knew her. He knew her. He always had known her. Always. Right from the very start. In a way, he'd been the only one that had. In another way, he still was the only one that knew her. She may have been irate and out of control, but she was not broken. She was strong. So strong. Jeff quite suddenly got the feeling that she'd still be in one piece until the very end. Everyone else would shatter around her, but she wouldn't. He hurt her. He hurt her more than anyone. He knew that.

But nothing he could do would ever come close to breaking her.

Standing by the large dark windows, she was hazily outlines by the street lights. Tall and lean, she was graceful in a manner no other woman had ever managed to achieve. Scrutinizing him intensely, and with disconcerting eyes she was both nothing and everything of which the rumours defined her as. Her precious flame hair framed her face, falling over her slim shoulders and down along the proud arch of her spine, gleaming in the light and his will was weak and hers was not.

Nothing else seemed too mattered.

Because all he ever saw was her.

And then for the second time, she broke him.

As she did all of the King's horses and all of the King's men gave up any lingering hope of fixing him.

* * *

One more chapter to go! Are you excited? R&R. Oh, and Lita's new theme music was "Shot you Down," the Adio Bully remix of Nancy Sinatra's original. I thought it was rather fitting, especially the chorus.

* * *


	14. Bittersweet

* * *

Title: The overture and the underscore.

Written by Professional Scatterbrain.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything.

Email: ask and you shall receive.

Rating: First chapter is R, but everything else is Pg – 13

Contents warning: In the first chapter only there is violence against women, but after that there is nothing of the sort against Lita, and in some of the final chapters there is an analysis and condemnation of the actions committed against her.

Set/Spoilers: 2005 when Matt comes back to Raw.

Summary: Their friendship was torn to shreds, now they are more messed up then ever, and missing each other more than they will ever admit. Jeff is violently abusing the leniency he is treated with, while Lita is self destructing in mass-ticket-selling style.

Pairing: Jeff/Lita

* * *

**Chp 14: Bittersweet **

* * *

The sound of flesh and bone being abused echoed.

Voices, foul words, fighting words bounced through the air; poisonous and pretentious.

The locked door shuddered and shook like a sapling tree assaulted by the jagged winds in a winter storm. It was pounded fiercely with bodies and foreign objects that should have been nailed down. Tommy and Raven were leading the charge; though not many followed. Their bodies; strong, weathered and scarred collided with the door on the count of three. Each impact significantly reduced its already limited shelf life. The hinges rattled, and . . . Yet none of that entered Jeff's mind.

Pieces and pieces shattered around him.

What was left?

He was vacant and broken.

She was neither of those things as she defiantly stood before him. She was full of ice and fire. A contrite contradiction. A short fused mistake that Jeff had created on that fateful night all those months ago. She hadn't said a word. Not a single one. But now she raged each night in the ring. All she needed was the slightest reason to set her off on a devastating tangent. Raven gave her a reason. Any reason. Other wrestlers did too. She'd pick fights with them in the same manner Raven did. She didn't have a master plan though. The other man saw control through chaos. There was no control in her chaos, only a mess of fists and bloody blood red hair.

And a belt; Raven's belt which she used to hogtie her opponents by her feet.

Too many images of her at TNA blurred before Jeff's eyes, and he kept pushing, pushing and pushing. He didn't believe anyone but her and he didn't want to get given a reason by anyone to get into fights any longer. His second chance, the one Matt had got all that time ago was inconsequential. A signature scrawled onto a piece of paper and a name had been resold to be a trademark once again. Now his face was on t-shirts and his was body getting beaten and cheated out of a WWE Championship belt by her old lover. What a mess he was. What a terrible waste. Green eyes were flashes glinting in the dark, his bow lips were unconsciously drawn in to a faintly archaic smile that was haunting in effect. It had never meant to be like this.

Never.

Her eyes, her dark, dizzy, dangerous eyes where too heartbreakingly hurtful to look at so he brought his hands up to his head. Silenced rained and his back stung. She'd stopped throwing glasses, but the shards that had got him already twinged in pain. His breathing was laboured, hers wasn't. He couldn't remember what he had said, and moments pasted without notation until she spoke again. Her voice, smoky and wrapped in velvet felt like steel wool as it filled the air.

In the lull, she had recovered, but within her eyes desperation flickered back and forth, "Why do you want me to apologise? Tell me, please."

Traces of anger had fled, leaving only a gaping abyss. Darkness covered the room, and his face was filled with deep shadows. He was harshly, recklessly handsome. Yet he didn't feel like that. He didn't feel like anything. Perhaps she read his mind, because the thought of nothing made her panic; anything connected to Jeff couldn't amount to nothing. It just couldn't. Everything inside herself rebelled at the though. But she was so tired. So unable to . . . continue.

So he lied and told her everything was alright.

He wanted to leave it at that. He wanted her to go so he could go back to bed and sleep late into the next day. His body felt as if it was weighted down by lead and his mind ached. Nerve endings flared up, and her vibrant hair against her pale skin drifted before his eyes like a drug induced vision. Her eyes though were dark, and they looked dangerous.

As they should.

How could he say that to her?

How? After everything . . . that was all he was going to offer to her? After everything that had happened – She wanted to swear or throw something or . . . she just couldn't be satisfied with that. Every book, glass, and breakable object had been thrown and broken. His back was littered with bloody cuts sustained by her good aim. What could hurling a vase do to change anything. Another exercise of futility was all that it could amount too. But, how too could he say that to her? After every word that had come previously, how could he offer 'that' and expect her to accept it? How could that be all that she ended up being? Only worth three words when everything was said and done? Nothing was 'alright'. He couldn't just say it was. She wouldn't let him. Not now, not ever.

"Don't tell me that everything's alright because it's not. It can never be 'alright' Jeffery, so stop trying to pretend that it is!"

"It is."

He sounded as if he was pleading. Jeff didn't plead. He didn't get down on his knees. She wouldn't allow him. More than an insult, it was that fact his ill gotten words were feeble which she detested. Such unworthy actions from him affronted her. His deficient words left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth. Puppy dog eyes and tired words were worthless. She didn't want them. She wanted to throw them back into his face just like she had thrown so many other items that littered the floor, broken and unfixable.

"I don't believe you." She retorted, bitterly.

He dropped his hands. She stared at him. Her hazel eyes meeting his unwaveringly. Determined and disappointed, he detested her for looking at him like that. Looking at him as if he was the fraud, the liar, the thief. As if he was only using pretty words, beguiling words to trick and taunt her.

"What do you want out of me?" he asked, exasperated.

She didn't answer him. This, perhaps more than anything she could have possibly done sent him over the final edge. Nothing left to put together again anymore. He was just shards of glinting glass that had used to form a number one contender. Wouldn't Stephanie McMahon be disappointed? She'd have to explain it all to her father. What a loss of revenue it would be. What a nasty mess she'd have to clean up before the press got hold of the story. Poor little rich girl Stephanie now she wouldn't have anyone to give lectures too. Maybe Matt would have to listen to her speeches about second chances now. Same blood line after all.

Blood line.

Blood feud.

Their genetic pool must have been pretty shallow to get two brothers such as them.

Team Xtreme. Matt had spearheaded that operation. Jeff had just collected Lita when the opportunity had been presented to him. Matt hadn't even wanted her at first. They had fought over that. They had fought over many things. Eventually she had become one of main points of disagreement between them. She still was. But that wasn't all her fault. She hadn't known what she was getting into that night Essa turned on her.

"Did you know that Matt had his foot on the ropes?"

"What?"

"The match that you referred between us. The one I won. The one where Matt had his foot on the rope as you were counting me as the winner."

His question came out of left field and it shook her. Uncertain she tried to regain her footing, not understanding what he was asking of her. Her mind flashed back to their shared past, trying to locate and assess what proper flash card memory he was seeking clarification on. It was a distraction. She recognised it for what it was. Something he used to get people off track. To try them out, to turn them in circles in order for him to escape unscathed. But the tactic only worked when one didn't know the rules of engagement. She did. She had helped create them after all.

What made him think that he could sidetrack her?

It was almost insulting.

Straightening her shoulders, she angled her head to the side examining him for a moment. For what she was looking for Jeff didn't know. But before his eyes, she became heart stoppingly lovely. Dangerously lovely. She became Raven and Tommy's and ECW's Angelica, and Jeff hated it. He didn't know Angelica. He only knew Lita and she was absent as she looked at him with those familiar yet strikingly unfamiliar hazel lobs.

"Yes."

Her one word answer made him crash to the ground in a tumbling mess of limbs and memories.

He tried to think evenly, but he couldn't.

He didn't know anything at all, and he backed away from her.

She was vivid and bathed in the yellow streetlight that drifted through the plate glass windows she was an ominous hazel eyed sight. Her blank eyes were fading, her rage swaying into something else. Something which was the matter of all manner of nightmares and nocturnal monsters hidden in the back of his mind. Everything around him and her was chaotic. He was left in too many shattered pieces with needle marks in his mind, and her eyes, her dazzling disasters eyes haunting his every moment.

Eyes that had filled his dreams for so long.

"You never told me."

"I wanted you to win. I made sure you did."

"But you were the referee." He stating, vainly implying the standards and codes of behaviour that she had been meant to embody that night all those many long years ago.

She shrugged. Not caring in the least. She hadn't then. She still didn't now. The actions she had committed had not been of the moment. They had been predisposed. Mens rea and actus rea. Yet she hadn't planned on acting them out. But as soon as she had stepped into the ring . . . she had known the outcome of the match, and she had known exactly how the end of the match would come about. Then, later . . . it had been easy to lie, easy to lie about actions that weren't wrong.

Jeff had deserved the win.

If she hadn't acted in his best interests Matt would have . . .

But that was the past. Long dead. Only they two remembered it due to factors outside their control. The match had not started any long term ripples in the pond, and after so much time and bad blood Lita doubted that Matt would even remember. Not that she was going to tell him. Not that Jeff would tell either. Once the information could have been used for a means to an end, now it was an end. He had distracted her, and she had let him.

But as quickly as her icy façade had rebuilt itself into Angelica, it began to waver and falter.

But that didn't matter at all because Jeff was already broken.

Years ago they had sat in the darkness of hotel corridors making strategies and game plans. Of sights and dreams to be achieved. Of tactics and mind games to be played out both inside and outside the ring. They had master minded matches and forms of attack. Plans and Plans. Different ones to Matt's. Yet all of the plans, all of them, just seemed to be nothing more than foolish pipe dreams in hindsight. Stupid dreams had by stupid boys and girls under the influence of cheap liquor and cheap smokes. He felt like he was going to explode. Her dark eyes, dark honey eyes now stared at him, and he felt like nothing at all under her watchful gaze.

Self medication wasn't working.

It left him hollow and aching. Everything wasn't fine and self medication didn't make it so. How many pills had he taken? Jars and jars of them. Taken every four hours, every single day. Just like a book of prayers, his day was divided into times to take his pills to keep him sane and steady. He had taken enough of them to make him a spokesperson for them, just like Triple H was for 'natural energy replenishing' ones.

Silence filled the space between them. The door was on its final notice. Only moments to go before it too would be ruined beyond repair. Large cracks had split through the wood, and it bent and flexed as weight was thrown against it. The top hinge had already given in to the onslaught of pressure. One or two more good shoves would probably be enough to break it down.

But for now it stood.

As the seconds passed, the air became heavier and heavier. Jeff couldn't understand anything at all. What more was there between them? To think that it could all end, that everything that could end up meaning nothing made him fell ill. He could only see heartbreaking hazel eyes watching him, and he couldn't feel anything else. The wounds on his back were numbs to him as she looked at him.

"Why?" he finally asked in a childlike voice.

But she didn't answer him; she just looked at him with aggrieved eyes and shaking hands.

Seconds flickered past. Yet he didn't back down. He couldn't. Was this a defining moment? His defining moment? Perhaps with the way she was looking at him it may have been. Hazel eyes, not blank ones were judging him. His green eyes. Not Raven's jet ones, nor any other person alive or dead. Jeff didn't want to see Lita imitate anyone ever again. He had known her for so long. So long. And she had been the only person that had ever really known him. She was heart breakingly lovely, and he was broken by her feet as he waited for an answer.

Any answer.

After all this time, it was just them. No outside interruptions or stipulations of a grudge match. No upper management watching on a monitor, sending cues down to the King or to Jim Ross. No additional commentary calling names and niceties. She wasn't anyone's jezebel and he wasn't anyone's prodigal son. It was nothing a fan would pay cold hard cash to see. And finally, in the deathly silence that had fell over only them, she answered him.

Her voice was pained, and her hands trembled. No anger was left, only sorrow and she ached for something she didn't wish to diagnose. Too much had happened over too long a time period. She scrambled and slipped. She didn't know how to say anything. Her words felt unorganised as the formed in her head and they tangled as they reached her throat.

"You were the only one that never hit me, that never hurt me like that. All the others, Essa, Chris, Christian, Matt, Edge, Hunter, all of them, but never you, never you . . .' she brokenly told him, pleading for something he didn't understand, "You had never hurt me,"

She closed her eyes then.

She didn't want to look at him.

But all he wanted to do was look at her.

He didn't want to look away. Not any more. She was the purest person he had ever known, and because of that, everything around him now seemed false and convoluted. He hated had hated that. Hated it more than he could ever articulate. But now he understood. He couldn't stop staring at her, and no matter how long he lingered in the locker rooms he had always known the truth. Gossip and rumours meant nothing, because she was true, and he wanted her more than anything.

"I'll I ever wanted was to be alone with you," he finally told her in a broken whisper.

He wondered if his words meant anything at all.

Her back was pressed against the glass windows, and as he spoke her long legs gave out. Sliding to the floor with her knees drawn towards her chest, she held her face in her hands. Her breathing was shallow and he crawled over to her, not caring about anything but the fact that he had told her the only secret he'd ever really had.

"Lita, Li, please,"

He was begging her now.

Begging for something neither of them knew how to give anymore.

Then he wrapped his arms around her knees, clinging to her in the way he imaged he might have clung to her all those years ago when things had only just began. Back when things had been so simple and so easy. Yet . . . that description in itself was a lie, and so he clung to her harder, tighter. He held on to her as if she was the only life line left, and she let him. She let him cling to her, not reaching out to him, yet not pulling away. She lent her head back against the glass window, and he pulled himself closer, almost lying in her lap.

He couldn't stop now.

Couldn't hold back.

Couldn't tell himself not too anymore.

"Please, please, please, please. . ."

He closed his eyes tight and held onto her, as if she was the only thing left in the world.

He begged, and begged.

Begged until his words . . . until he had no more words left to give her.

"I'm sorry," he wept finally.

He was broken.

And she wasn't. She never was, and never would be, and he didn't hate her for than anymore. A few minutes passed, and he felt her hand running through his hair, untangling it gently. He breathed her in, bitting his lips as the same old perfume, jasmine, filled his head. She made him dizzy, and she was the only thing that he didn't felt numb about.

The only thing he had never felt numb about.

She was fire, flames and fury.

She could never be numb, or cold, or detached.

At the back of his mind he could heard people fighting, and people trying to break down the door. The voices were mixed and diluted. Shrill screams suggested the TNA Knockouts were dominating the war against the WWE Diva's. Meanwhile the people closest to the door were rallying. They were gearing for the final charge. The final push. Someone was telling them to stand back, to keep clear.

But Jeff didn't care.

Taking one of her hands he kissed her palm, holding it to his face. Her skin was cold, and he felt her touch echo and reverberate like violin strings tuned in an empty concert hall. He bit his lip, and very slowly she traced his along his jaw. As she did, she felt silent tears creeping down his face. Then she lent down a little, and kissed him.

First kiss.

It tasted of tears and heartache.

So he kissed her again and this time it wasn't so bittersweet. She relaxed a little, and he moved closer, nestling himself in her arms. He didn't want to hurt her anymore. No, he couldn't. The only thing he wanted was to sleep with the sound of her heartbeat entering his ears each and every night.

"I'm sorry too." She finally told him.

He nodded.

"I really am. I never meant to hurt you."

"Raven was right then,"

The door was broken down then.

It crashed against the floor.

"We are a matching pair,"

The immediate fighting stopped then. The sight of two lovers, heartbreaking and hope filled; crumpled on the floor in a tangle of each others arms and legs quieted even the most violent urge. Out in the hall, the pawns, the posers, and the wannabe pop and rap stars continued to battle on despite the sudden lull that had occurred within room 246. The figures that had entered the room; the most violent, the most passionate, the most threatening, the alphas and the 'us'' and the 'them's' all slowed to a halt. Jeff's tear stained cheeks spoke of something no one but Lita could understand, and so she let him hold her hand, and let him sing to her, and let him take her and have her and hold her close.

Because all they ever wanted was to be alone with each other.

* * *

**The End.**

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Yay, I've finished. So, what'd you think? R&R.

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